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HIS HANDS WERE AT THE MAN’S THROAT, 


[page 93] 






THE BRUTE 


W. DOUGLAS NEWTON/ 

AUTHOR OF 

“double-crossed,” “low ceilings,” “green ladies,” etc. 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

NEW YORK :: LONDON :: MCMXXIV 








COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


J 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 


AUG 11 1924 ‘ 

3c1A801285' 




^ A 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. The Passengers. 1 

II. When Cipriano Smiles .... 7 

III. Even the Beast Has Beauties . . 17 

IV. Customs of the Country ... 25 

V. The Double Quest.30 

VI. Master.41 

VII. Pascobas Manoeuvres .... 48 

VIII. Nerve Wins.53 

IX. Lilias.62 

X. My Lady Devil.70 

XI. ^^All Things Betray Thee’’ . . 89 

XII. Jungle Darkness.102 

XIII. Trickery.106 

XIV. Hunter and Rescuer .... 117 

XV. The Tangle.131 

XVI. Tied Hands.136 

XVII. In Terms of Loot.147 

XVIII. Green Gloom Trails .... 161 

XIX. The Aviadors ..175 

XX The Dago Prison.188 














vi CONTENTS 

CHAPTEH PAGE 

XXI. The Way of Cavalieros . . . 194 

XXII. Felton Proves Himself .... 214 

XXIII. Intolerable Samaritans . . . 231 

XXiy. The Marooned. 242 

XXV. She Is Beautiful—Also Rich! . 248 

XXVI. CiPRiANO Condescends .... 263 

XXVII. The Unseen Stalker .... 273 

XXVIII. Felton Pays.287 

XXIX. Glamour. 304 




THE BRUTE 


W. DOUGLAS NEWTON 




THE BRUTE 


CHAPTER I 
THE PASSENGERS 

A S the tender drew into the quay half the motley 
populace of Saluce lined the stringpiece. All 
the journeyman loafers of the tiny, blotchy, 
heat-stifled South American port gathered to look at 
the mad people who had risked their lives by coming 
off the liner in so dangerous a sea. Also, because 
they were dagos, their souls rejoiced at the promise 
of victims to be plucked. 

Scores of half-clad men fought their way to front 
positions. They yelled shrill seductions to the party 
of four on the tender. Each male siren waved the 
folded cloth, which was the livery of his union. Those 
cloths were used for putting between the skull and 
the baggage that porters always carried on the head. 
Paul Glen looked down on the shifting rabble with 
the calm of the large Anglo-Saxon, and thought how 
near the monkey-house at any Zoo such a spectacle 
was. 

Amusing enough to watch the uproar from the 
tender. It was a novel sensation. It was the thrilling 
experience of a strange land, with new manners and 
types—and smells. Not so pleasant, however, when 
the party was in the thick of it. The seething mass 

1 


The Brute 


squirmed and shouted about them in a bewildering 
chaos. It was only by dint of great alertness and 
occasionally physical force that Paul and Bevis Pro- 
byn prevented avid hands snatching away the bags 
and boxes of their rather elaborate luggage. 

They might, however, have accomplished this mir¬ 
acle had not events taken a swift and unexpected 
turn. Unseen by the party a number of dagos slipped 
from the tender. They joined others on the quayside, 
spoke to them urgently. A signal, and the whole 
body of these fellows pushed through the crowd of 
porters throwing them back. The porters yielded as 
though in fear. In a swarm the men were on to the 
baggage crying out that they would carry it for the 
senors, beginning to lift to their heads. 

Under that rush the little party was engulfed. It 
was swamped by the fervour of Latin-America. 
Anglo-Saxon phlegm had no chance. Paul Grien striv¬ 
ing to overawe by his big, neat impressiveness cried: 
^‘Hang it all, we don’t want all this crowd. Absurd, 
a mob like this. Tell ’em, Bevis. Tell ’em, Jennifer.” 

Bevis Probyn, plump, debonnaire, mildly but un- 
deviatingly calm ‘Told ’em” in fluent Portuguese. So 
did Jennifer. It was without reaction. The wild-cat 
mob swarmed clutching and chattering and flghting 
like monkeys over the boxes and bags. 

Lilias Seyler, as sleek and as unruffled as a great 
cat, smiled: “You can’t stop a flood with a gesture. 
Better flow with the tide and talk big when we’re 
safe on the schooner.” 

“They’re off,” laughed Jennifer Daun. “Stick close 
2 



The Passengers 


to those boxes of money, Paul, that’s all we can do.” 

The rabble of porters was streaming along the 
docks. The men were still squabbling and fighting 
over the baggage. The party kept pace as best it 
could. All were heading for a fine topsail-schooner 
tied up against a distant arm of the harbour. 

Then, quite suddenly, they were not heading for 
that schooner. The porters swerved and plunged pell- 
mell into a long, low, dark freight-shed made mazy 
with piles of merchandise. 

‘^Not there! Not that way!” shouted Paul. ^^The 
schooner—hell. . . . What’s the Portuguese for ^Go 
to the schooner,’ Bevis?” 

Bevis was already shouting it, but without effect. 
The stream of porters thronged helter-skelter into the 
musty gloom of the shed, and at once they were all 
involved in what seemed a frantic, dynastic quarrel. 
The mass of dagos had in a twinkling become a 
squirming, pushing, screaming and apparently mur¬ 
dering clot of angry men. The swirl and clamour of 
their movement added to the stark confusion caused 
by the abrupt change from the blazing sunlight to 
semi-darkness. The party felt lost. They were 
hustled and pushed and swung like chips in an eddy. 

Only Bevis kept his head. He knew Latin-America. 
He understood. He cried: ^Tt’s a trick. Look out, 
Paul. It’s a trick to get hold of the money.” 

His stubby arm hooked savagely and a dago grab¬ 
bing at one of the boxes of money went over with a 
yelp. 

Then everybody was fighting. 

3 



The Brute 


The mob abruptly broke off all personal encounters. 
It swung in upon the party with startling unanimity. 
'No doubt at all that the whole thing was concerted. 
Paul and Bevis straddling over the precious boxes 
were slashing right and left. The mob swung against 
them. Paul drove with both hands. Bevis dug and 
dug with his left, and his right followed kicking. 
Three dagos reeled back into the mob, were swallowed 
and hidden by the snarling, wolf-faced mass which 
still came on, though the fists swung and swung and 
even Jennifer and Lilias beat at the greedy brown 
faces with their parasols. 

Men went down right and left and the crowd sucked 
back. A voice yelled an order, the scum bunched to 
come again. 

^‘Time for pistols,panted Paul, and he reached 
hipward. 

^^Not yet,’^ gasped Bevis. “It will mean arrest. 
That^s playing into their hands.” His fist jerked 
out again and a too-venturesome scoundrel accom¬ 
plished a fine backward curve. Then: “God! It is 
time for guns. . . . They have their knives out.” 

The long, wicked curved knives of Latin-America 
were shining in a dozen hands. The knives swung 
threateningly, ready to stab, ready to throw. 

“TheyTl get us,” cried Bevis. “In front of the 
girls, Paul, they chuck those infernal things. . . . 
Back behind that heap of bales.” 

“We can’t leave the money. We can’t!” cried Jen¬ 
nifer. 

“It’ll be murder for all of us if we don’t,” said 
4 



The Passengers 


Bevis. A knife sang over his head, and, his pistol 
out in a flash, he fired. 

The mob winced, howled, came on to finish 
them. ... 

And then a big man was in the midst of the 
rabble, hitting. 

He came abruptly, startlingly like a fury loosed 
from the very air. His bulk was terrific, his power 
of dealing punishment terrible. His big hands 
pumped and jabbed as he clove through the mob of 
dagos. When a fist swung a man went down as 
though pole-axed. He burst into and scattered the 
mass so that it broke, stumbled, tangled, fell over, 
and scrambled all-whither in foolish panic. A scared 
voice wailed: Diabo! . . . O Diabo, Martino 

A yelp of real fear answered that. The words 
were taken up, in a dozen frightened tones. . . . 
Martin the Devil was undoubtedly not a man to trifle 
with. The mob faded into the gloom of the shed as 
though by magic. Only a greedy few grabbed at 
certain boxes. 

^‘Those boxes,^’ cried Bevis. ^^Don’t let them get 
’em . . . full of money. ...” 

The big man dived straight at the group round 
the boxes. What he did was too swift to follow, 
but two men went over with amazing limpness and 
lay still. And the rest bolted madly. 

The big man faced them over the boxes. His height 
and emphatic power awed them, that power seemed 
to come out of him with ruthless force. His strong, 
squared-off face—^^Carved out in chunks by an ama- 

5 



The Brute 


teur with a blunt chopper’^ was Glenns sneering opin¬ 
ion of it—^with its powerful jaw, tight, firm mouth 
and puckered and penetrating eyes faced them with¬ 
out friendliness. 

Indeed his eyes took on a contemptuous harshness 
as they swept over the smart clothes and the soft, 
civilized bearing of the party. He stared from them 
to the boxes. His foot spurned the latter. 

^‘Money—how, money he asked, in a voice queerly 
calm and cultured. “Specie?^’ 

^^Gold sterling,’^ said Bevis. say—^you came just 

in time. We^re awfully grateful.’^ 

‘^You have reason,the big man jerked. “People 
like you, loose with two boxes of gold sterling— here! 
What sort of lunatic millionaire picnic are you?” 

Jennifer answered coldly: “We landed to join a 
schooner in this harbour, the Evelyn Hope/’ 

The big man stiffened and stared. 

“Hades!” he burst out. “My passengers!” 



CHAPTER II 


WHEN CIPRIANO SMILES 


T here was an unpleasant pause after the big 
man’s explosion. Bevis Probyn standing 
quietly, watching with his calm, shrewd eyes, 
knew acute anxiety. This certainly was the most 
inauspicious way to enter upon a matter of life or 
death. 

It was obvious that the big man viewed them and 
the prospect of carrying them on his schooner with 
distaste. It was just as obvious that his attitude 
was resented. Jennifer Daun had stiffened into of¬ 
fended coldness—naturally ; no man had ever dared 
to talk like this to her before. Paul Glen, always 
touchy but particularly so where Jennifer was con¬ 
cerned, was scowling his readiness to intervene as a 
strong man should if this low fellow showed any 
more rudeness. Only Lilias the sleek seemed to be 
enjoying the situation. But then that was her role 
in life, she obtained infinite satisfaction from such 
human antagonisms. 

Jennifer said coldly: ^^You are Captain Sondes?” 
am Martin Sondes,” said the other evenly. 
Diabo Martino—Martin the Devil,” murmured 
Lilias, but no one paid attention to her. 
am Jennifer Daun.” 

gathered it,” said Martin Sondes without friend- 
7 


The Brute 


liness. ^^And you have chartered my ship, I know 
that too.” His brows narrowed. ^‘But I didn’t 
know my Kio agent was a fool.” 

^^Look here—” began the furious Paul Glen. 

^^And why should your Eio agent be a fool, Cap¬ 
tain?” asked Bevis quickly, quietly. 

^^He seems to have been bemused into imagining 
you needed me and my schooner for something im¬ 
portant—in fact, for something dangerous.” 

^^And you don’t think that’s true?” broke in Jen¬ 
nifer, passionate under his contempt. 

He looked at her, at her slim, delicate beauty, at 
the Rue de la Paix perfection of her turn-out, the 
general luxuriousness of the whole party. 

^^How can I?” he asked curtly. 

Jennifer’s bright eyes sparkled angrily: “You must 
accept the facts despite our appearances. Captain,” 
her voice said icily. “It may console you to know 
that we too were misled by your Rio agent.” 

“As—how?” 

“He told us you were a gentleman.” 

The big man did not even redden. His eyes met 
hers level: “A romantic illusion on his part. Pedi¬ 
grees don’t survive on this coast.” 

“Nor common good manners, either,” snapped Paul 
Glen, suddenly boiling over. “It’s about time you 
remembered you were talking to someone rather dif¬ 
ferent from your deck hands.” 

Martin Sondes turned to Paul Glen with massive 
imperturbability. “Spoiling for a row?” he said 

8 



When Cipriano Smiles 


evenly. ‘‘You won’t find me unaccommodating. Only 
—what’s your station in this gala party?” 

“You insolent—” began Paul, but Jennifer said 
“Paul” sharply, and Paul, remembering that he was 
a pure knight sans reproche of all the best London 
drawing-rooms, stood back. 

Bevis Probyn said crisply: “Captain Sondes, you 
are behaving in a very strange manner. Your re¬ 
ception is unwarrantable, you seem to resent our 
presence.” 

“Yes, I resent your presence,” said Martin Sondes 
emphatically. “I am warned by my agent that I am 
chartered for a venture of great gravity, even of risk. 
I am told that I have been specially selected because 
I am the only man to tackle that risk. I prepare for 
just that sort of undertaking. And—well, you turn 
up. That’s the reason of my resentment, I don’t like 
being fooled.” 

“Did it seem foolery when you rescued us from 
that rather ugly situation just now?” 

“Do sensible people parade round with two boxes 
of gold sterling to tempt thieving dago ruffians?” 

“They do if there is no other way to carry a large 
sum that may be needed instantly in circumstances 
or places where they may not be able to or must not 
go near a bank.” 

Martin Sondes stared at the bland little man for a 
moment. “That’s logical,” he said, in that unex¬ 
pectedly well-bred voice of his. “At the same time 
do sensible people allow the world to know that they 
carry gold in their baggage?” 

9 



The Brute 


^^Sometimes they can’t help themselves/’ smiled 
Bevis. ^^We didn’t want that secret to get out.” 

^^But it did—how?” 

^We had to bribe heavily the ruffian who owned 
that tender to get off from the liner at all.” 

guess you did. Pascobas doesn’t risk his filthy 
skin for nothing. But I see, that made talk.” 

“It did. His men talked with the dagos on the 
liner—up the side of the ship, you know, as they 
were slinging us and our baggage over in the basket. 
The fact that we had something valuable in the liner’s 
strong-room must have been passed down to Pas- 
cobas’s men. Our anxiety about these two boxes told 
them of their value.” 

“I wonder Pascobas didn’t have a shot at those 
boxes himself.” 

“He did,” said Bevis. “He tried to make us be¬ 
lieve the harbour entrance was too dangerous in this 
sea. He wanted to put us ashore lower down the 
bay.” 

“In virgin jungle where robbing you would have 
been simple,” said Martin Sondes. “You stopped 
that game?” 

“Paul—^Paul Glen here, shoved his pistol against 
Pascobas’s waist-line. He became a miracle of navi¬ 
gation immediately and got us inside the harbour.” 

“Good for Paul Glen,” said Martin Sondes, favour¬ 
ing the young man with a steady glance that made 
him furious. How dare this brute condescend to 
him. But Martin Sondes was no longer thinking 
10 



When Cipriano Smiles 


about Mm. His quick eyes swept over them again, 
swept over their baggage. 

^^It^s a mess,” he said curtly, ^^but we’ve got to 
make the best of it.” 

He turned his face towards a group of men now 
gathered in one of the doorways of the big shed. 
He was obviously going to give an order to those 
men, but before he did so, he stared at a tall thin 
man who seemed to be talking persuasively to some 
of the others. His eyes were fixed on this man for 
a moment, then he gave a short laugh. ^^Yes,” he 
said, ^^and the quicker we make the best of it the 
better.” 

He barked a short order that made the men at the 
doorway jump to attention. Some of them came for¬ 
ward to the baggage. 

Jennifer as cold, as lovely as an affronted princess, 
intervened. 

^^One moment, €aptain Sondes,” she said icily. ^ Jf 
these men are coming to take our baggage to your 
ship you can countermand the order. We don’t go 
on your ship.” 

Martin Sondes turned on her, there was no irrita¬ 
tion on his rugged face, indeed there was a fiicker of 
amusement about his strong lips. 

fear you haven’t any choice. Miss Daun,” he 

said. 

‘We shall see,” she said coldly. “Bevis, stop those 
men handling our luggage.” 

“Who will handle it?” asked Martin Sondes. “The 
porters who tried to rob you just now?” 

11 



The Brute 


^^There are probably some honest men in Saluce/^ 
said Jennifer coldly. 

is possible/’ said Martin Sondes coolly. ^^But 
I fear two boxes of gold form too great an obstacle 
to simple virtue.” 

‘^We will risk that,” said the beautiful girl 
haughtily. 

^^And where do you intend to go?” asked the Cap¬ 
tain. 

“There are hotels,” said Jennifer. 

“My dear Jennifer,” cried Bevis Probyn, who knew 
Latin-America, “you really don’t appreciate the 
danger, in the circumstances, of going to a hotel in a 
place like this.” 

“I prefer the danger,” said the girl obstinately. 

“By dawn tomorrow your throat will be cut,” said 
Martin Sondes so casually that all started with 
horror. 

Paul Glen snapped an exclamation of angry dis¬ 
gust at the fellow’s brutality, but Lilias laughed 
softly, and Bevis recognised why she laughed. Jen¬ 
nifer under the crude brutality of that remark had 
gasped and lost all her haughtiness. Martin Sondes, 
rough, violent fellow that he was, seemed to have 
realised exactly what attitude would drive sense 
into a headstrong girl. 

“Such attempts to frighten me—” Jennifer began 
in a shaking voice. 

“Do frighten you, Miss Daun,” said Martin Sondes 
incisively. “You are no fool, you must recognize what 
I say is true. I am, as you think, a rough fellow, 
12 



When Cipriano Smiles 


a coarse fellow, a brutal fellow, but just because of 
that you know that if my words are painful they are 
at least plain fact. You are in a dangerous place. 
Miss Daun, under dangerous conditions. I tell you 
plainly that in this den of brigands and murderers 
your life will not be worth a moment’s purchase if 
you sleep off my ship.” 

^‘You have made sleeping on your ship impossible,” 
said Jennifer, but not quite so decisively as before. 

Martin Sondes looked at her for a full half minute 
then he said quietly: 

“I am sorry I spoke like a fool about your business. 
Miss Daun. I see it must be of real gravity to have 
brought a woman like you all the way from home to 
a place like this.” 

Lilias Seyler smiled. “Admirable and splendid 
brute,” she thought. “So blunt and yet big enough 
to make a complete amende.” 

Jennifer, perhaps, felt this too, but she remained 
silent. Martin Sondes continued evenly: 

“There will be danger if you stay on land. What 
else can you do? You are cut off from the world, 
for the mail-boat will not return for three weeks. By 
that time you will be robbed and dead and buried. 
That may sound fantastic, but, believe me, I TcnowJ^ 

“There are other ships,” said Jennifer in a low 
voice. 

“There are,” said Martin Sondes with the shadow 
of a smile on his lips, fine lips as both Lilias and 
Jennifer appreciated. “Other ships and other cap¬ 
tains. You will find them charming, more charming 
13 



The Brute 


than my uncouth self. They will take you to sea with 
an almost noble courtesy, rob you at leisure and drop 
your bodies overboard—all with the same perfect 
grace of manner. It is one of the characteristics of 
this land that even the commonest murderer has the 
social charm of a Spanish grandee.^’ 

He paused, looked round on them all coolly, firmly. 

‘T haven’t any manners as you see. We don’t hit 
it off, that’s obvious. At the same time you don’t 
hire a captain for his social qualities. Particularly 
you don’t hire a man like me for parlour tricks. 
You’ve got some dangerous job for me—in spite of ap¬ 
pearances. I’m used to dangerous jobs. I’ll do it.” 

He was not defiant or boastful, he was merely 
stating facts. In Bevis Probyn’s mind the suspicion 
that they were dealing with a quite remarkable man 
became a certainty. He was glad. Jennifer, on the 
other hand, was trying to suppress exactly the same 
feeling. Of a staunch, strong, nature herself she 
recognized such qualities in others. ... If only 
this man had not been so downright. 

^‘But you have no desire for our company,” she 
said, giving him a chance to win his way back into 
her good graces. He seemed to see it. The smile 
was on his lips again. But he answered: 

trading captain has no personal feelings, Miss 
Daun. If he contracts to do a certain piece of work, 
he does it—without prejudice.” 

‘‘Oh,” she cried, her eyes blazing, “if that is how 
you feel why trouble to take us to your ship?” 

14 



When Cipriano Smiles 


I still have an instinct to save people of my 
own race from being murdered by dagos.” 

The girl made a gesture of disgust and disagree¬ 
ment. 

“You don’t believe it,” he went on quietly. He 
turned and nodded towards the tall thin man who had 
talked so earnestly with the others at the door of 
the shed. ‘^Do you see that man, Miss Daun, the 
one who was talking to my hands? He is Cipriano 
Bravo, the cruellest, most ruthless and most accom¬ 
plished cut-throat on this seaboard. His unerring 
nose for loot has smelt out those boxes of money. He 
is here to get them, and to knife all of you in the 
process if needs be.” 

They all stared at the tall thin man. Under the 
cold, fierce glare of Martin Sondes the cadaverous 
Latin-American turned to them a face long, extremely 
lean and of an almost unearthly aesthetic beauty. 
He might have been some saintly monk who had re¬ 
fined and disciplined his flesh until his features had 
taken on a noble and saintly austerity. 

He returned their gaze, deliberately examining 
face after face of those about the captain until his 
big, soulful eyes looked into those of Martin Sondes 
again. Then a mocking light came into those eyes, 
and with the grace of a nobleman he lifted his big 
straw hat from the high, narrow but splendid fore¬ 
head. Smiling, he bowed low before walking away. 

And as he smiled all there save Martin Sondes 
shuddered. The smile had transformed the face. In 
15 



The Brute 


that moment the saint had vanished and one of the 
blackest and vilest of earthly devils was revealed. 

^When Cipriano smiles, sleep with your gun in 
your hand! That’s a local proverb, Miss Daun,” said 
Martin Sondes quietly. think it is high time we 
went to my ship.” 



CHAPTER III 

EVEN THE BEAST HAS BEAUTIES 


T here was nothing nncouth about Martin 
Sondes’s schooner, Evelyn Hope. 

She was neat, swift and shining; she obvi¬ 
ously had the sailing qualities of a yacht. To these 
capacities was added the power of a good auxiliary 
gasoline motor. 

It was enheartening to notice that among the men 
on the deck there were several American and British 
sailors, though, for all that, the number of flimsily 
clad South Americans, half-castes and even negroes 
predominated. Jennifer’s party had begun to feel 
uneasy of anything South American, and, it seemed, 
Martin Sondes’s mate shared that feeling. 

He was a long, whipcordy American youth, and 
he came to the captain as they were about to go down 
to the cabins. 

^^There’s a lot of fresh talk among our dagos about 
millions in gold being aboard, sir,” he said. ‘^The 
sound of it isn’t too healthy.” 

‘Ht won’t be healthy until we clear, Lincoln,” said 
Martin evenly. ^^We have two boxes of gold aboard. 
You’ll have to keep things keyed up. Pascobas and 
Cipriano Bravo are after that gold.” 

^^Why not clear now?” asked Paul Glen. 

17 


The Brute 


“In this sea?’’ said the mate with the dispassionate 
accent of a man talking to a fool. 

“Not yet,” said Martin Sondes, casting his eye 
over sky and sea. “Bnt take it from me we’ll stay no 
longer than we can help.” 

The living quarters that Martin Sondes introduced 
them to, had the charm of the unexpected. They had 
looked forward to the cramped and stuffy quarters 
of a small coastal trader, they found instead the cosy 
apartment of a highly cultured young man about 
town. 

It was not merely that the whole of the stern was 
given over to a bright, cheery saloon of broad cush¬ 
ioned seats and chintz-covered chairs; there was a 
general air of refinement and good taste everywhere. 

There were, for instance, some beautiful coloured 
reproductions of classic pictures let into the pan- 
nelling of the cabin walls—a Pisanello, a Jan van 
Eyck, a Maluse, copies of Kembrandt, Metsu and 
Giorgione. 

Low bookshelves were crammed with a catholicity 
of volumes, bewildering in range, but evidence of a 
pretty broad scope in reading; it extended from the 
Greek classics in the orginal to French, English and 
American novelists; Trollope and Mrs. Wharton, 
Zola and P. G. Wodehouse, Brett Young, Frank and 
Charles Norris, Wells and Bennett, Zona Gale, O. 
Henry, and so on. 

Lilias Seyler stopped before those books, gasped, 
and laughed her soft, slurring laugh. 

“You have all the attractions of the unexpected, 
18 



Even the Beast Has Beauties 


captain,” she said in her bold way. “The buccaneer 
on deck and the fireside epicure below.” Her eyes 
as she spoke were as bold as her words. 

^‘Even barbarians read a little,” he said coolly. 

“A little, but not a lot. And not such books. The 
dear barbarian captain of the mail-boat read only 
Sailing Directions and a big, sinister volume called 
Why Employ a Doctor? Have You Mumps? Look 
Inside/’ 

have something like that, too,” said Martin 
Sondes, ‘^but I haven’t that other barbarian’s courage. 
Merely for me to read about mumps gives me all the 
symptoms.” 

^^So you take refuge in Plato instead?” 

^^Or G. K. Chesterton,” he said with a grim smile. 
^^Either are better than a chapter on adenoids with 
immediate internal reactions.” 

feel we’re going to have an attractive trip,” said 
Lilias. shall watch you killing your men regularly 
on deck, and then be filled with wonder when you 
come down and steep yourself in Lytton Strachey.” 

^T’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” said Martin 
Sondes, steady-eyed and quiet. rarely kill my 
men more than once. It undermines the morale and 
hampers the working of the ship.” 

Even Jennifer laughed at that, and Lilias, by no 
means put out, went on: ^^A tongue in your head, 
too. You are full of attractions.” 

‘^Even the beast had his beauties,” said Martin 
shortly, and signalled his Japanese steward forward. 

But he had given Lilias an opening which she 
19 



The Brute 


could not resist: ^^The Beast now/^ she murmured. 
^^Didn’t the Beast marry the Beauty in the end?’’ 
Her eyes, as she spoke, flitted so signiflcantly from 
the man to Jennifer, that the girl’s eyes flashed 
real anger. Martin Sondes showed nothing, merely 
stood calmly back while Lilias with her pantherine 
grace swung by him to her cabin. 

Their cabins were cool and neat, chintz fitted and 
comfortable. At the end of the alleyway was a won¬ 
derful bathroom fitted with all those sprays that miti¬ 
gate the lot of a traveller forced to journey in tropic 
weather. 

‘^This barbarian is not averse to luxury,” Lilias 
said, drifting into Jennifer’s cabin. ^He’s a superb 
riddle, don’t you think? A man of breeding and yet 
a journeyman brute. Jennifer, my dear, I really do 
believe I’m going to stop being chaperon and become 
an interested actor on this part of our trip.” 

^He’s an extraordinary creature,” Jennifer agreed. 
^^But without doubt quite the rudest and most un¬ 
pleasant man I’ve ever met.” 

^‘That’s where he is so interesting,” said Lilias, 
curling on Jennifer’s bed like a great cat, and show¬ 
ing the sinuous and superb lines of her full figure. 

^^Lacerating rather than interesting—to have to 
clash with such a creature, is—is mortifying.” 

^Jt’s his power,” said Lilias speculatively. 
don’t know when I’ve ever met a man with such ter¬ 
rific natural force. It comes out at you, dominates.” 

^^Force!” cried Jennifer scornfully. ^^A tiger has 
terrific natural force, too, but one doesn’t want to live 
20 



Even the Beast Has Beauties 


with it. It’s the brute in him you feel, that’s all.” 

wonder. Do you think a brute could have fitted 
up that cabin or chosen those books and pictures?” 

^^Do you think anyone but a brute could have talked 
to us as that man did?” 

^^One might call that just plain speaking without 
frills.” 

^^So plain as to be ugly.” 

suspect the plain truth is ugly in this part of the 
world. Cutting throats and the evading of cut¬ 
throats robs human intercourse of its drawing-room 
nuances. I see this lovely, ruthless skipper of ours— 
speaking merely as an onlooker, my dear—as a man 
who has no use for anything but plain, hard facts and 
grim truth. He has whittled away all the fripperies 
of life until only the stark verities remain. Not a 
nice man to meet in a drawing-room, but rather a 
useful person to have about one in a place like this 
and an adventure like yours, Jennifer.” 

^J’ll concede that,” admitted Jennifer. ^^The Kio 
agent said he was the one man on the coast to carry 
through a desperate and dangerous job. He certainly 
acts as though he was. But that doesn’t prevent me 
loathing him at first sight.” 

Lilias leaned back, her sleepy, alluring eyes regard¬ 
ing the other analytically: ^^That, I fancy, is rather 
a dangerous state of mind. It indicated that you 
may come to love him at last.” 

Jennifer swung on her companion with almost too 
ready an indignation: ^^Are you imagining I should 
ever be attracted by a creature like that?” 

21 



The Brute 


would be annoying if you were/’ said Lilias, 
uncurling herself, and preparing to leave the cabin 
with Jennifer, ‘^because I intend to make love to him 
myself.” 

Martin Sondes was obviously not popular with an¬ 
other member of the party—^Paul Glen. Topi who 
served tea with the silent and rather uncanny perfec¬ 
tion of the East told them that the captain would not 
join them. 

^^He probably needs time to recover from the shock 
of having a party of society idlers launched out of 
the blue on to his purely utilitarian ship,” said Lilias. 

^^Oh, well, a peppery beggar like that is best left 
alone,” said Paul, with that supremely worldly-wise 
air begot of the fact that he had donned a fresh suit 
of perfectly tailored duck. . . . Martin Sondes was 
anything but perfectly tailored. 

^Teppery and with a punch,” smiled Lilias lazily. 

rather expected you were going to be the means of 
favouring us with a spectacle of both back in that 
shed. It would have been thrilling. You box rather 
better than a bit, don’t you, Paul?” 

^‘You talk the most unmitigated rot at times,” said 
Paul huffily. ‘^One doesn’t scrap like a navvy every 
time one has a difference of opinion, you know.” 

doubt whether Martin Sondes suffers from such 
inhibitions,” said Lilias with her deep and tantalizing 
drawl. ^^But we shall see. A man of your particular 
manner, Paul, is bound to upset him sooner or later.” 

Paul stiffened his massive shoulders truculently, 
and Bevis interposed smoothly: ‘^There is nothing 
22 



Even the Beast Has Beauties 


to be gained by anticipating friction. We have 
enough trouble ahead of us as it is. Personally I 
am grateful that we have the support of such a man 
for the rescue of Eonald Buckingham. I am greatly 
impressed with Martin Sondes^s capacity.’^ 

am, too,” said Jennifer evenly and to the great 
surprise of Paul, who saw her only as a lovely, slim, 
fastidious and wayward girl, instinctively repulsed 
by brutality. But Bevis smiled. He knew that un¬ 
der Jennifer’s quick, ardent and even headstrong 
temper there was a great deal of intelligence and com¬ 
mon sense. She went on: ‘^He may jar on us, but 
there is no doubt he has the qualities of courage, 
daring, resource and even ruthlessness necessary for 
the success of our plan. I feel more than ever cer¬ 
tain that we shall rescue Ealph.” 

Lilias gave a little laugh. ‘^Bevis calls him Eonald, 
you call him Ealph. . . . I think a definite ruling 
on what name we are to use would be wise.” 

Jennifer did not answer, but looked at Bevis. ^^Oh, 
I think we had better stick to Eonald Buckingham,” 
he said. ^Jt is the name he is known by and im¬ 
prisoned under. It is obvious, too, that he chose to 
hide his real name for very good reasons.” 

^^To hide from that scoundrel who is hounding him 
down, of course,” said Paul. 

agree,” said Jennifer. ^We must call him Eon¬ 
ald Buckingham, always; not Ealph Felton. As you 
have said before, news travels in an uncanny way in 
this part of the world, and the mention of the right 

23 



The Brute 


name may put that beast on Kalph’s track and so 
undo the work we are here to do.’’ 

^^It might even give that cad a warning that would 
enable him to escape from us. That would spoil 
things,” said Paul. 

^Tt would,” said Jennifer with a note of passion 
creeping into her voice. ^We must always keep in 
mind that our object is twofold, the rescue of Kalph 
and the punishment of the brute who hounded Ralph 
so cruelly.” She paused, staring out of the windows 
astern. ^^And Captain Sondes seems to me the sort 
of man to help there, also. He can help us search 
out and deal with that man when Ralph has told us 
his name.” 

^^Surely a brute like Sondes will be on the side of 
brutes,” said Paul loftily. 

^^No,” said Jennifer to the astonishment of all. 
^^Oaptain Sondes is repellent, but I feel he is square. 
He is the sort of man to hate wrongdoing and love 
justice.” 



CHAPTER IV 
CUSTOMS OF THE COUNTRY 


T hey were still talking when an uproar on the 
deck brought them to their feet. 

Quite abruptly there had come shouting, 
stamping, the sound of fighting and then a scream. 

“Don’t go up,” Bevis cried as they made for the 
companionway. “We’ll only add to the trouble.” 

No one paid the slightest attention to him. Even 
the girls ran up into the crude, raw and magnificent 
glare of the tropic sunset. Dazzled for a moment 
they soon saw that ugly work was going on. 

On the main deck forward a knot of men were 
struggling vigorously. It seemed as though some 
were trying to get to the side of the ship while others 
were fighting them back. Arms whirled, a man came 
stumbling and sagging out of the mob, tripped and 
fell all a-sprawl to the planking. A knife arm fiashed, 
an arm hooked and struck, there was another scream. 
The mass swayed back from the ship’s side. They 
looked on amazed at this exhibition of savage and 
primitive passion, and suddenly Bevis’s voice came 
smooth but deadly: 

“Senhor, drop that gun! At once or I shoot!” 
Bevis was stiff, alert, his pistol ready. In line 
with that pistol, just below the break of the poop, a 
tall figure on the quay was leaning across the ship’s 

25 


The Brute 


rail. One lean, monkey-spider arm was pointing a 
pistol at another figure at the foot of the accommo¬ 
dation ladder across the deck—that other figure was 
Martin Sondes. He was staring ahead without any 
sign of emotion at the man who threatened from the 
quay. That man was the saint-faced desperado, Ci- 
priano Bravo. 

All this they saw in a flash, and in a flash Martin 
Sondes had dropped flat to the deck. Cipriano fired 
at the same instant, and the explosion of Bevis’s pistol 
seemed to fuse into that shot. Whether Bevis had 
saved the captain, or whether he was dead they could 
not at first say. 

Then—it seemed an age after—Cipriano^s fingers 
went limp and his weapon fell down on the quay. He 
stood stiffly looking at his wrist where blood was 
showing. He dropped his arm with a shrug, and his 
wolfish grin effaced the sheer beauty of his face as he 
turned to Bevis. 

^^Senhor is to be congratulated,^’ he said, with the 
courtesy of an aristocrat. ^^Senhor is more ready to 
adopt the customs of the country than I imagined. 
The wound is a mere scratch, let me hasten to assure 
you, but the decision of your action warns me against 
risking my body further. I will remember your 
capacities with respect, Senhor. Until heaven sends 
the next meeting. ...” 

His hat was off in a superb flourish, and, as though 
he had never felt the slightest interest in the Evelyn 
Hope^ he calmly walked away. 

26 



Customs of the Country 


Only Bevis watched him go. The others had more 
exciting things to see. 

Martin Sondes, wasting no thought on his narrow 
escape from death, was up and moving along the deck. 
He seemed to travel the whole length in three great 
strides. He went straight into the mob of struggling 
men, his hands pumping hard. 

A man seemed to lift right out of the crowd from 
the swinging up-rush of his right. The left smashed 
and a nigger collapsed into the scuppers. The mass 
swallowed him like a wave burying a swimmer, but 
up came his great shoulders bursting and thrusting 
through the mass, and men toppling this way and that 
from him as before. Jennifer gave a little cry. A 
man was crouching, waiting on Sondes’s movements, 
and a knife was in his hand. A space cleared like 
magic about the captain—and the knife—the hand 
swung. Sondes had seen. He dived straight on to 
the knife arm, crippled its movement; his great right 
fist dug. The assassin took the punch on the solar 
plexus, caved and fell in on himself. 

Martin tossed the fellow aside, drove at the other 
men. There were ten or twelve of them, niggers and 
dagos and all had knives now. Ranged against them 
with Martin Sondes was the boy-mate and a few white 
hands. Paul noted the odds, leapt down from the 
poop and at a run joined the captain. Paul was a 
useful size and weight, and though he hit almost 
exclusively in a stiff, straight-left style, when that 
straight left got home there was a pretty pack of 
weight behind it. He knocked one fellow clean on 
27 



The Brute 


to the cargo hatch, and cross-hit another with such 
force that he crawled away to think it over. 

Martin shouted: ^‘Drive ^em towards the fo’c’sle. 
Don^t let any jump the ship.’^ 

Paul on the wing of the line swung inwards, and 
the attackers, hemming the crew, drove them in a 
narrowing circle towards the open fo^cMe hatch. 
‘^Now!^^ yelled Martin, and he and his men flung 
themselves compactly on the mass of dagos and spun 
them piling up and kicking on to the floor of the 
fo’c^sle. The hatch was slammed, the roof-slide shut 
home, the mate bolted down all tight. 

^‘What was it all about Bevis asked, coming down 
to the group as it stood panting, and—the mate at 
least—tying up knife wounds. 

^^Cipriano’s first move,’^ said Martin shortly. His 
eyes were staring across the harbour to where the 
sea showed angry and dangerous beyond. ^‘Get a 
kedge out, Lincoln,’’ he said to the mate. ^We’ll put 
salt water round that scum anyhow for the night.” 

He turned again to Bevis: ^^Do you follow the plan? 
Cipriano and his jackals—the big cur with the knife 
I outted was one of them—came and talked honey 
to my crew. Intimated that their chance of living 
to a ripe old age would be considerably lessened if 
they stayed on this ship. So they decided to leave 
in a body.” 

^Thew,” Paul exclaimed, ^^they must be pretty 
scared of Cipriano.” 

^‘They are. You see, they know him.” 

<^He wanted to delay sailing, of course,” said Bevis. 

28 



Customs of the Country 


“What else?” asked Martin curtly. “Even an 
artist of Cipriano’s efficiency prefers to rob at leisure. 
Keady with that hedge, Lincoln? Jim, Dick, stand 
by to cast off.” He turned to Paul and Bevis. ^^IJl 
ask you to heave that big fellow with the knife, and 
that little snaky rat over there on the quay. 
Then you can take a trick at the windlass.” 

Paul wanted to say that he was a passenger, not 
a deck-hand, but Bevis answered too quickly: “Cer¬ 
tainly, Captain, I take it you are anchoring in the 
middle of the harbour to keep our friend Cipriano 
at arm^s length?” 

“No, to keep my crew aboard. I can’t sail out in 
this sea, but when I do I want to have enough hands 
aboard to work the ship.” 

A hail came from the centre of the harbour, where 
the mate, in a small boat, had carried the kedge 
anchor. Martin signalled and the mate dropped the 
kedge. The two white sailors cast off from the quay, 
and Paul at the windlass spent the most heating, 
exasperating and hand-blistering hour of his exist¬ 
ence. It was true that the other hands, the mate and 
even the captain worked as hard as he, but he was 
furiously annoyed at having been treated as just an 
ordinary person—and more, at having a clean and 
perfect suit of flannels ruined with dirt and grease. 



CHAPTER Y 


THE DOUBLE QUEST 


M artin sondes said as soon as the Japa¬ 
nese steward had vanished with the dinner 
plates; 

^We sail at daylight. We had better have our 
route now, Miss Daun.’’ 

Under the oil lamps swinging gently in gimbals 
Martin Sondes’s face looked more square, unyielding 
and rugged than ever. The strength of his person¬ 
ality had dominated the dinner-table, and yet it had 
been impressive rather than intimidating. He had 
talked easily and with the mastery of any subject 
that had come up, when necessary; only, on the whole, 
he had not found it necessary to talk. The effect had 
been reassuring, and Jennifer was able to answer 
quite easily: 

^Wes, it is time to talk business. The port we want 
you to take us to. Captain, is Fogasta.” 

^Wes.” 

^^No difficulty about that?” 

^^None at all.” 

^^But you do understand that there may be 
danger when we reach Fogasta, grave danger?” 

^‘The Rio agent made that a particular point. I 
am not unaccustomed to it. Miss Daun.” 

^^That hadn’t to be told,” said Jennifer with a half 
30 


The Double Quest 


smile. ^^You have already lived up to much the Eio 
agent told us of you.” 

hope he also told you of certain limitations,” 
said Martin Sondes quietly. 

‘^Such as?” 

do not touch anything questionable, mean, or 
frankly dishonest.” 

Jennifer caught her breath sharply at that, her 
fine brow wrinkled anxiously. She said slowly: 

^^The first thing we want you to do. Captain, is to 
rescue a man from prison.” 

Martin Sondes examined her silently then: 
man imprisoned in Fogasta?” 

“We think so. When he wrote last he was in the 
Morro there. It will not be easy, we under¬ 
stand. ...” 

Martin Sondes brushed that aside. With eyes 
fixed level on hers he asked almost harshly: “What 
was the crime?” 

“Crime!” she answered hotly. “It was an unjust 
imprisonment.” 

“More than likely!” Martin’s grim smile came 
faintly. “Justice is not a distinguishing quality of 
the Eepublic of Fogasta. Still, there are cases of 
real guilt.” 

“But he is a man of our own blood,” she protested. 

Martin Sondes’s face darkened with a curious, 
black passion: “That sort can be the worst,” he said. 

Jennifer looked at him startled and angry. 

“If what I hear is true. Captain Sondes, these 
31 



The Brute 


Latin-American prisons are unspeakable places. They 
mean death for a white man.^^ 

^^Quite true/’ Martin agreed. ^They are not fit 
even for a mongrel British dog, Miss Daun.” 

^^And yet you hesitate about rescuing a Britisher 
from one?” 

^^Not hesitating, Miss Daun, merely wanting to 
know whether I can do it with clean hands.” His 
eyes grew hard. ‘T know one or two Britishers, Miss 
Daun, for whom even a dago prison with all its rot¬ 
tenness is too good.” 

Jennifer stared, offended: ^^You say that about 
your own race?” 

^^Miss Daun,” he said firmly, “I don’t help any man 
of any race to escape even from a South American 
jail if he is in there for a crime I abhor.” 

^^Captain Sondes,” said Jennifer, am speaking of 
my half-brother.” 

Martin Sondes shrugged his great shoulders. That 
neither prevented a man being vile, nor altered his 
own viewpoint, that shrug said. It did not increase 
Jennifer’s friendliness. It was Bevis who said 
quietly: 

^^Aren’t we wandering from the point? Your limi¬ 
tations do not affect this case. The crime this young 
man committed was political.” 

^^That,” said Martin Sondes, ‘fis quite another mat¬ 
ter. Will you give me details?” 

^^Are we to be put into the dock and cross-ex¬ 
amined?” cried Jennifer. 

^We are asking Captain Sondes to run considerable 
32 



The Double Quest 


risk/^ said Bevis quietly. is only fair that he 
should know exactly why.^’ He turned to Martin. 
^^The details we have are few enough. It appears 
that Miss Daunts half-brother having obtained, 
legally, a mining concession in Fogasta, agreed with 
the rest of the community in which he lived to resist 
a new mine tax. It was, they all agreed, an unlawful 
tax, since it specifically broke the terms of the con¬ 
cession they had obtained from the government. In 
resisting this exaction, this young man was captured. 
He was tried by a travesty of a court and sentenced 
to twenty years’ imprisonment. That, we are told, 
means death for one of his kind.” 

^Tt does,” Sondes said evenly, ^fif we can’t get him 
out.” 

^^Ah!” cried Jennifer in a great gasp of relief. ^^You 
will get him out?” 

“I will try,” said Sondes. His eyes rested on Jen¬ 
nifer and his smile came. “That sort of thing is not 
held to be a crime in these places. It is clean and 
natural beside some of the things our bad-hats do 
out here. I’ll willingly do my best to get this man 
Daun out of his trouble.” 

“Daun is not his name,” said Jennifer. “He is my 
half-brother, you know. . . . His name is Konald 
Buckingham.” 

“Konald Buckingham,” Martin Sondes said 
thoughtfully, “that is a new name to me.” 

“I don’t suppose you know all the Britishers on this 
seaboard,” said Paul a little huffily. 

“Most of them,” said Martin, “either personally or 
33 



The Brute 


by repute. Our colony is not so big that we do not 
know of each other, if only distantly.’’ 

^^That should be of use in the second matter for 
which we want your help,” said Jennifer. ^^But first 
about the rescue. My brother managed to get a letter 
smuggled out of prison to us. He told us of the 
horror of his position, but also that his release could 
be managed if we were prepared to bribe heavily. 
He seemed certain of it. . . . ” 

‘^He had right with him,” said Sondes. ^^Bribes 
can do anything on this continent. You can do much 
if those boxes of gold mean anything.” 

^‘We have seven thousand pounds in English gold.” 
lot of money. If Cipriano has smelt out all 
that we shall have a lively time between here and 
Eogasta.” He frowned a little, and said, half mus¬ 
ing, wealthy young woman. . . 

Jennifer fiushed, and said with a touch of loftiness: 
^^My father—not Konald’s, his was a poor man—left 
me a great deal of money. I am willing to spend any¬ 
thing to save my half-brother from the horrors he 
describes.” 

was merely thinking that we shall have to be 
careful about you, Miss Daun. You are highly valu¬ 
able—for ransom, and I should say that our friend 
Cipriano, and the skipper of the tender, Pascobas, 
must appreciate the fact.” 

‘‘My brother is more important,” said Jennifer with 
her chin high. 

“No doubt,” said Sondes. “At the same time you 
count. I think it will be safest if you wait in some 

34 



The Double Quest 


town, say Belem, while I carry out this business.^^ 
come with yon, Captain Sondes,’^ said Jennifer 
firmly. 

‘‘Yon don’t realize the dangers,” he said cnrtly. 
“They are real. They inclnde death; they inclnde 
disease and perils at sea, discomfort, ronghness, 
privations to which a girl of yonr npbringing and 
life is a complete stranger.” 

“Captain Sondes,” said Jennifer firmly, “I have 
made np my mind to take part—personally—in the 
rescne of my brother.” 

“A girl of yonr breeding—and beanty—has no 
right to travel in this barbarons conntry amid men 
who are as barbarons as the conntry,” he said grimly. 

“I accept all risks,” she answered coldly. 

Lilias’s soft langh came: “Also the captain feels 
that foolish women will be terribly in the way,” she 
said. 

“Yon will,” said Martin calmly. 

“Nevertheless I come,” said Jennifer. 

“And I wonldn’t miss it for worlds,” said the pnrr- 
ing voice of Lilias, “quite apart from the fact that 
Jennifer mnst have a chaperon.” 

Martin Sondes looked sqnarely at Jennifer for a 
moment. Then he said qnietly: “What is the other 
thing yon want me to do?” 

Jennifer gave a little gasp of ntter relief. She 
had felt that she had been pitting her will against 
the power of this man, and thongh she had spoken 
bravely she had not been certain of victory. She 
had to panse for a moment before she conld take np 
35 



The Brute 


the threads, then she said: “The second thing is to 
hunt down and punish a cur.” 

Even the calm Martin Sondes was surprised at 
that. He said after a moment: “Just what does that 
mean, Miss Daun?” 

“You said just now,’’ went on Jennifer, “that there 
were certain Britishers out here who shamed our 
race by the vileness of their lives. The man I want 
to find, mean to find, is just such a man. A brute. 
Captain Sondes, whom I mean to bring to justice.” 

“His name?” asked Martin Sondes, with a touch 
of eagerness. 

“We do not know his name—^yet,” said Jennifer. 
“But when we rescue my brother we will know it.” 

“His villainies are connected with your brother?” 

“My brother was his victim.” 

“Go on. Miss Daun,” said Martin evenly. 

“If I do not know his name,” said Jennifer with 
growing passion, “I know what he has done to my 
brother. Captain Sondes. From the moment Eonald 
landed in South America he has been dogged by 
this brute’s enmity. All that my brother has suf¬ 
fered, all the plans that have gone astray are due 
to this man. He is a bully, a brute, one of the most 
notorious scoundrels of this seaboard, my brother 
declares.” 

“And yet your brother did not mention his name?” 

“Why should he? It would convey nothing to us 
at home. But his letters showed plainly how un¬ 
bearable this man made existence here. Captain 
Sondes, for no reason at all, save that that man was 

36 



The Double Quest 


vile, Ronald went in constant fear of death at that 
man’s hand. Time and time again he had to fly from 
a town jnst as he was beginning to make headway, 
because of the pursuit of this man. My brother lost 
trading posts, he lost the little money he had, he lost 
peace of mind and health—he was hunted and ruined. 
Oh, I can’t make you understand what the poor 
boy went through.” 

‘‘Go on,” said Sondes. “I understand better than 
you imagine. . . . All that sort of thing is quite 
in keeping with that unpleasant type I spoke of just 
now. How did your brother earn this man’s en¬ 
mity?” 

“He exposed him in some dishonesty, he said. The 
man never forgave him. He swore to get even with 
him, hunt him into his grave. And he has done 
his best. In one of his last letters my brother de¬ 
clared he had been brought to physical and moral as 
well as financial ruin by what he had been forced 
to go through.” 

“Why didn’t your brother stand up to him?” asked 
Martin harshly. 

“My brother is not physically strong; we are not 
all made alike,” she said meeting his eyes level. 

“Even refined breeding can face a brute,” said 
Martin, with a grim smile. “This seaboard is no 
place for weaklings. Miss Daun.” 

“Is that a reason why brutes like this man should 
go free. Captain Sondes?” she cried, a high spot of 
anger on each cheek. 

“It isn’t,” he answered tersely. “And I will tell 
37 



‘ The Brute 


you sometMiig, Miss Daun. Ever since I have been 
out here I have been fighting the type of scoundrel 
you describe. Oh, they exist to our shame, and I 
know them and hate them—and I fight them. They 
have caused all the enmity and suspicion that exists 
today between races who should live together ami¬ 
cably. One cur of this type will wipe out in a day all 
the good work honest and decent men do in twenty 
years. I know! There is a tribe of Indians on a 
lonely Brazilian creek who had treated me fairly and 
traded honourably with me for years. A black¬ 
hearted scoundrel I had befriended took shelter from 
justice among them. They treated him, with the 
splendid and simple hospitality of their natures be¬ 
cause he was my friend —my friend! He did abomi¬ 
nations to them, stole, killed—worse. And then 
bolted. And when I went among them again they 
shot at me. They could no longer trust one of my 
colour, they were the enemies of my colour. And 
could I blame them? I couldnT. . . . But the 
man who killed that goodwill—why, by Heaven if 
I ever catch him there’ll be no mercy.” 

As he spoke his figure filled, and his face lit up 
with a terrible light of vengeance. They stared at 
him breathless, awed. They seemed puny beside 
him, the petty, people of an artificial civilization. 
While he looked—he looked big, elementally and 
tremendously big, a splendid figure of fineness, 
straight-dealing—^justness. Eude and plain-spoken 
to brutality he might be, but it arose from a force 
that was superior to little meannesses and petty 
38 



The Double Quest 


crooked things. He was big—very big, with a mind as 
big. 

For a moment he stared with clear and unyielding 
eyes over the wine-dark sea that heaved beneath the 
ports astern, then he pulled himself together, and 
said with his grim smile: 

^‘You’ll see Pm what they call, at home, a crank. 
IWe got a fixed idea that the world is spoilt for de¬ 
cent people—the majority—by the few bad-hats. And 
my nature being what it is, it does not seem quite 
good enough for me to sit still while these bad-hats 
are ruining my good world. I don^t think good ought 
to be merely passive. And I don’t practise it. So 
when I meet one of these gentlemen I go after him 
strongly and continuously. There is a fellow. . . . 
But that doesn’t matter. What does matter, Miss 
Daun, is that you don’t have to enlist me on your 
side. If you are out to punish a cur, I’m with you 
instinctively. We’ll catch that brute if we have to 
chase him from Cape Horn to Greenland and back 
again. And when we’ve caught him I guess we’ll 
make him pay in full.” 

Jennifer, with eyes shining very brightly, stretched 
out her hand: ^^That’s a promise. Captain Sondes?” 
she cried softly. 

‘ Jt’s a promise,” he said, and he took her hand. 

^^And my brother?” 

^^That’s a promise, too,” he laughed, and he was 
singularly boyish—^boyish and charming. ^We’ll 
have him out of jail if they’ve hidden him in the 
last of all the jungle towns of Fogasta. . . . Acci- 
39 



The Brute 


dents and act of God not intervening, you under¬ 
stand—I’m only a human man.” 

little more, I think,” said Jennifer, her face 
bright, and more exquisite, more alluring than Mar¬ 
tin Sondes cared about. “I know now we are for¬ 
tunate in having your help.” 

While turning in that night Martin Sondes won¬ 
dered how far he was fortunate in having one so 
beautiful in his charge. 



CHAPTER VI 


MASTER 

I T was after midnight when the noise of run¬ 
ning feet on the deck woke Jennifer and her 
party. 

Awakened in the dark hot silence of the tropic 
night the sense of alarm seemed to carry Jennifer 
away into panic for a moment. She could almost 
feel the rush of ruffians overhead, almost feel the 
saintly sinister presence of Cipriano in her cabin and 
the threat of his knife at her long, warm throat. 

The panic cleared. After all it was not fighting 
she heard. There was no outcry, no scuffling, no 
shooting. Instead she heard the mate’s voice calling 
from the deck, and the sibilant tones of Topi answer¬ 
ing, then a knock at the captain’s door, and the pas¬ 
sage of Martin Sondes’s quick, urgent and assured 
tread along the alleyway towards the deck. 

She heard Bevis and Paul talking with that queer, 
thrilling distinctness of sounds in deep quietude. 
They went up to the deck. Quickly putting on a few 
garments she went up into the night too. 

At first she saw nothing amiss. A tropic moon was 
turning to silver the heavy sweep of the seas. Across 
the harbour she saw the fret of palms and trees 
standing like delicate filigree against the milk-blue 
sky. Under the trees the square massive houses 
41 


The Brute 


shone flat and flour-white, with here and there a 
window gleaming like Are opal. 

From somewhere on land came the wailing lilt of 
a guitar, and, thinner and beyond, the barking of 
dog-monkeys in the jungle. All was peaceful, deli¬ 
cate, shining with beauty. What could be wrong? 

She joined Bevis and Paul, standing at the break 
of the poop. They were leaning forward to where a 
group of men laboured on the deck. 

^What is it?’^ she asked. 

Paul stretched his hand pointing to the fo’c’sle 
head. 

‘^That smoke,’^ he said, ‘^flre!’^ 

Quite suddenly she saw a wavering coil of smoke 
rising up and fanning out above the fo’c’sle; it 
drifted, now dark, now milk-coloured, from shadow 
to moonlight. 

aj^ire,?? she whispered, frightened. ^^How?^’ 

A voice came from beneath their feet. The boy- 
mate working unseen had heard them. 

‘TPs a trick,’’ he said, “but the real thing all right. 
Those durned greasers have fired the ship.” 

They all went forward to where the men were 
working, uncoiling the hose, shipping the pump. A 
flurry of wind swept the length of the schooner. It 
beat the smoke down and back into the fo’c’sle. Im¬ 
mediately there uprose from that cramped space the 
animal clamour of frightened men. 

“Can’t they get out?” cried Jennifer in horror. 

“They’re not going to get out,” came the grim 
42 



Master 


voice of Martin Sondes. ^^That pump ready, Lin¬ 
coln?’^ 

^^Aye Aye! sir,’’ came from the mate. 

^^Heavens,” cried Paul Glen, “they’ll be smoked to 
death like wasps in a nest.” 

“You can render first aid then,” came the even voice 
of Martin Sondes. “Got that hose forward, Harry? 
Right! Hick. Mr. Glen get to the pump.” 

Again the overbearing brute was treating Paul 
like a deck-hand. “Look here,” he growled, “I’m 
not. ...” 

“Not so much darned debating,” snapped Martin 
Sondes with a cutting edge to his voice. “That’s 
an order, jump to it.” 

Paul Glen’s big chest swelled. It was about time 
he put this fellow in his place. Bevis Probyn said 
testily: “For Heaven’s sake use your head, Paul. This 
is a matter of life and death.” 

“He wants me to notify my intentions in a polite 
letter a week in advance,” Martin Sondes said curtly. 
He turned his back on the raging Paul and with a 
catlike jump reached the fo’c’sle head. 

He reached a ventilator, swung it round, put his 
mouth to the bell, roared: 

“Sons of pigs whose grandmothers were pigs— 
quiet. If you want to save your misbegotten lives 
listen.” 

The wild clamour in the fo’c’sle stilled as though 
by magic. The skipper’s voice went on: 

“You’re locked tight in the fo’c’sle. You’re going 
to remain locked in the fo’c’sle, sabe? So you’d bet- 

43 



The Brute 


ter lose no time in saving your lives. You^ve fired 
my ship, you^ll put it out—or burn.” 

There was a wild outcry of terror and rage. 
Screaming voices cried that they were already burn¬ 
ing. Sondes^s strong commands beat the uproar into 
silence once more. 

^^Yes, you will burn,” he cried—^^burn like rats in 
a trap. And you will go from it to the more painful 
roasting of hell. But you shall at least decide for 
yourselves.” 

There was the abrupt crash of a pistol in the f o’c’sle. 
A bullet tore through the planking on the other 
side of the ventilator, the side where Martin Sondes 
would have been if he had not swung the cowl round. 

^When you have that man tied up,” he roared, ‘T 
will talk with you again. Hurry, or you will be 
choked to death. I am shutting the ventilators. 
When he is tied up, sing out together.” 

Calmly, methodically, he slipped about the fo^c’sle 
head shutting all air vents, bottling the thick choking 
smoke into the narrow space of the men^s quarters. 
From those quarters came another shot—but no 
bullet—the screams of a man, and the sounds of a 
wild fight. Sondes dropped imperturbably on to the 
main deck, stood there as the mate brought the head 
of the hose forward. He seemed absolutely uncon¬ 
cerned by the fact that his hands were being suffo¬ 
cated to death only a few feet from his own broad 
back. 

Jennifer, her fine eyes blazing, could not stand 
this. It was brutality beyond endurance. 

44 



Master 


^^Captain Sondes!” she cried. ‘^Captain Sondes!” 

The skipper realized the presence of the girls for 
the first time. His frowning face was turned over 
his shoulder: 

^^Go aft, please,” he cried. ^^You are in the way 
here.” 

In the way! Jennifer could have struck the fel¬ 
low. She cried indignantly: 

^^Captain Sondes, you cannot do this barbarous 
thing. Killing—murdering your whole crew. It is 
infamous. I will not allow it.” 

^^Eeady by that pump there?” shouted Sondes. 
^^Get busy.” 

From astern came the clank of the hand-pump and 
the hose fattened and gushed water. 

^^Captain Sondes, did you hear me?” cried the pas¬ 
sionate Jennifer. 

‘^Mr. Probyn,” Sondes snapped, “get these women 
aft. At once.” 

He turned to face the fo’c’sle, where the clamour 
of fighting had died. Jennifer took three rapid steps 
forward, was before him, a superb, a lovely figure, 
the figure of a goddess of just anger in the white 
marble of the moonlight. 

“How dare you!” she cried. “How dare you treat 
me like this! I have given you an order—” 

“You don’t give orders on this ship. Miss Daun,” 
he said. “I do.” 

“How dare you!” she cried again. “I will not have 
these men murdered.” 

He looked at her steadily. 

45 



The Brute 


^^You prefer being murdered yourself?” he asked. 
^‘If that was all I’d do as you say. It isn’t all. 
There’s my mate, and my men, and me. We’re not 
going to be sacrificed for the ignorant whim of a girl. 
Please go aft, and don’t interfere. Miss Daun.” 

There was a sudden shouting, a singing-out from 
the panic-stricken men in the fo’c’sle. 

^Wou are a brute and a coward!” cried the angry 
girl. ‘T will not stand by and see those poor crea¬ 
tures suffocated like—like rats.” 

He smiled grimly: 

^‘Every moment you hold me here arguing Miss 
Daun,” he said, ^^you make their chance of escape less. 
You hear them singing out? That shows they’ve caved 
in and are willing to save themselves. But you’d 
rather keep me here arguing the thing out, eh?” 

She stepped back, her face furious. 

‘^Go to them, then,” she exclaimed passionately. 
^^Don’t blame me for your callousness.” 

‘‘You can’t evade facts like that,” he said quite 
calmly, without moving. “You come and interrupt 
my work quite recklessly, because you are ignorant. 
You hold up my plans for saving those men and us, 
again because you do not know. Then you try to 
blame me.” 

“Those men are waiting to be saved. Captain 
Sondes.” 

“They will be when my order to you is obeyed.” 

“Captain Sondes,” she cried, “you are deliberately 
playing with me in a matter of life and death.” 

“Not playing with you,” he said grimly. ‘^Teaching 
46 



Master 


you. Making it plain to yon that ignorant interfer¬ 
ence is a crime. The scum in there set fire to the 
ship in the hope of forcing us to land, in the hope of 
escaping to land; in the hope of holding up our sail¬ 
ing. You already know what that means. Robbery, 
death for all of us. I have made my plans to meet 
this situation for our safety, but you come down 
here— 

There was an outburst of almost hysterical yelling 
from the fo’c’sle. Jennifer shuddered. ^^That is 
enough, Captain Sondes,’’ she cried. ^^Do quickly 
what you had planned to do—that is all.” 

^^When you are on the poop aft, I begin,” he said 
evenly. ‘‘Not until then.” 

Jennifer turned and swiftly went aft. Lilias, smil¬ 
ing softly, followed. 



CHAPTER VII 


PASCOBAS MANCEUVRES 


N ot until the girls had mounted the ladder to 
the poop did Martin Sondes move. But when 
he did, his actions had an extraordinary swift¬ 
ness and certitude. 

He caught up the hose, now spitting water in a pow¬ 
erful jet, and with the ease of his tremendous strength 
dragged it to the fo’c’sle scuttle. He knocked the 
scuttle back. At once a dense volume of smoke arose, 
and the head and shoulders of a frantic nigger. 

The nigger had a long knife in his hand, and was 
prepared to fight any man who barred his way. But 
he had not counted on the combative effects of a pow¬ 
erful stream of water. The jet from the hose caught 
him squarely, and knocked him head over heels back 
into the fo’c’sle. The hose followed him down. 

Martin Sondes yelled through the scuttle: 

^Tut out your fire. No man comes on deck until 
it is got under. Fight for your own lives, you dogs.’^ 
A throwing knife came singing past his ear, and by 
way of a test case a big dago heaved after it through 
the scuttle. No more than his face reached deck level. 
On that level Martin Sondes^s fist took it with a cruel, 
digging blow, and the man dropped out of view like 
a stone. Those below, taking the lesson to heart, de- 

48 


Pascobas Manoeuvres 


voted all their energies thereafter to saving their 
precious hides from their own fire. 

It was as well. Those commanding the deck of the 
Evelyn Hope had other things to attend to. 

The fire had been seen on shore—as the crew had 
hoped it wonld be. Saluce, so dead, so thickly, wick¬ 
edly stagnant in the tropic heat, woke up. Shrill 
voices called amid the houses. Dark figures ran on 
the quayside. 

Abruptly Sondes called out: 

‘^Mr. Probyn, get that belaying-pin and come here. 
Stand there, over the scuttle; if anything shows bat 
it hard.” 

will, without hesitation,” Probyn answered, smil¬ 
ing grimly. ^^WhaPs the trouble now. Sondes?” 

^We’re going to get friendly help, dern it,” said the 
skipper grimly. His finger indicated a plume of 
smoke rising from a crazy smokestack. ^Tascobas is 
hurrying to our rescue.” 

pistol shot or two will scare him/’ 

^Tt will, if that snake, Oipriano, isn’t at his elbow. 
By the way, you’ve got a pistol yourself, Probyn?” 

^^Oh, yes. I’ve been in these waters, before, you 
know.” 

‘T’ve noted it,” said Sondes. ^^You’re a useful man 
to have about.” 

^Taul Glen can be useful, too.” 

^'Not until he’s forgotten his drawing-room atti¬ 
tudes,” Sondes observed, not scornfully, but as one 
stating a fact. ''He may learn, but his kind are usu¬ 
ally too superior to learn.” 

49 



The Brute 


^‘Your teaching is rather harsh.” 

^^It is. So are our surroundings. Here you are 
harsh, or you die. Mistakes are fatal; one slip, and 
nature—which is a wolf—or man—^who is a hyena— 
gets you, especially on a job like ours. Here comes 
Pascobas.” 

The crazy tugboat pushed nosing out from the 
wharf, kicking and staggering in the still dangerous 
swell. A great muddy trail of wood-smoke belched 
from her stack in a dingy scarf across the moonlit 
harbour. Martin Sondes watched the tender labour¬ 
ing towards him in complete silence. He had gone 
aft to the poop, where he stood revealed, a tremendous 
figure in the moonlight. 

His massive silence was too much for the fat Pas- 
cobas on the bridge. It was he who in the end leaned 
over his tattered dogger and bawled: 

Evelyn Hope, ahoy! Senhor Captain, you need 
help?” 

Sondes’s voice, even, but of a clear and penetrating 
pitch, called back: 

‘T do not!” 

This was baffling for Pascobas. He hopped on one 
fat leg and then on another. 

^^But, senhor, you are on fire!” 

do not need assistance, Pascobas.” 

^^But you have many people on board to save—^your 
crew and your passengers.” 

‘T’ll signal if I want you. Good-night!” 

Pascobas was at loss. He dodged back to his little 
chart-house. There was someone there he must con- 
50 



Pascobas Manoeuvres 


suit. Bevis Probyn saw a long, thin, shadowy stick 
of a man. He already knew the outline of Cipriano 
far too well to make any mistake about that shadow. 
Pascobas hopped back. 

“But we must rescue you, senhor!’’ he bleated. 
“The rules of the port authorities set down that 
we— 

Pascobas stopped short. Martin Sondes had delib¬ 
erately drawn a pistol from his hip-pocket and was 
resting the muzzle on the rail. 

“Senhor, it is the lawcried Pascobas in a wheezy 
tone. 

“You are getting too close,’’ Sondes answered. 
“Sheer away, there.” 

He waited for an order from Pascobas; none came. 
The pistol flicked once, and the tug-skipper’s straw 
hat kicked upwards, spinning in the bright moonlight, 
a brilliant piece of shooting, and convincing. Pas¬ 
cobas rapped out an order. 

But he didn’t turn and make for the quay. He 
swung his crazy vessel round and round the schooner, 
coming no closer for fear of that pistol. Sondes and 
Bevis watched him, the latter at least wondering 
what his game was. On the deck of the schooner the 
pump clanked unceasingly. It was breaking Glen’s 
back, but since the man Dick showed no sign of slack¬ 
ing, Paul’s pride held him to the exhausting task. 
From the fo’c’sle scuttle the cloud of smoke had 
dwindled, and now Probyn could hear the rush of 
water and also the voices of the imprisoned men talk¬ 
ing less excitedly. Still the tender circled the 

51 



The Brute 


schooner mysteriously, with the fat villain Pascobas 
and the snake-like murderer Cipriano aboard. They 
were probably only watching and hoping for a chance 
to attack, but Bevis could not help feeling that they 
had some deeper object. 



CHAPTER VIII 

NERVE WINS 


T he tug continued to circle warily round the 
schooner, and Bevis became more certain that 
the scoundrels on board her dared do nothing. 
Below him in the fo’c’sle the evidence of smoke and 
sound proclaimed that the fire was all but beaten. 
Things were working out well after all, and he became 
more comfortable and confident. 

Then with benumbing abruptness the mate was 
shouting: 

^^There’s a boat under the stern, sir. They^re try¬ 
ing to get at us through the stern ports.’’ 

Even as he yelled, even as Martin Sondes ran across 
the poop, even as Bevis’s heart chilled with the knowl¬ 
edge that Jennifer and Lilias were down there in that 
saloon which the ruffians were trying to enter, the tug 
swung inward heading for the schooner, and from her 
deck there immediately opened a spattering of pistol 
fire. 

At that moment he heard Jennifer’s voice calling, 
crying more than an alarm from the saloon below. 

The admirable qualities of Martin Sondes were in 
evidence at once. He was on the alert, in action, even, 
but he did not lose his head, allowed no one to lose 
his head. 


53 


The Brute 


From the saloon stair-head he rapped out a string 
of orders: 

^Trobyn, slam that scuttle home and get out your 
pistol. Harry, Dick, Jim, Glen, drop work, get your 
guns ready. Shoot into that tug. Don’t hesitate. 
Don’t let her come aboard. . . . Watch out for 
other boats!” 

He was down the companionway at a bound and 
into the saloon. Four men had slipped out of the 
boat that had come up under cover of the tug’s 
manoeuvring. Three were already in the saloon, one 
was half-way in through the window. As the pistols 
began to hammer up on deck, Martin Sondes flung 
himself into a more ugly struggle. 

Two of the men held Lilias and were struggling 
with her, and not too successfully, for she fought 
like a great cat. The third man held Jennifer down 
on the broad seat. He had her tightly, a great arm 
crushing all resistance out of the slim body, while 
his free hand held the point of a cruel broad-bladed 
knife to her throat. He was saying in snarling Eng¬ 
lish: 

^^De mon-ney. De place where dat mon-ney is hid. 
Listen! You tella damn queek.” 

Jennifer, teeth deep in lip, shook her head. The 
knife-point pecked into the little soft cup where the 
throat sinks to the chest. She gave a little moan. 

^^Queek!” snarled the man. ^‘Dat mon-ney damn 
sharp.” 

At the foot of the accommodation stair Martin 
Sondes checked and fired. It was a brilliant snap- 
54 



Nerve Wins 


shot at an angle, and it was successful. The man 
spun half-round, as Martin expected he would, and 
dropped in a heap on to Jennifer—the knife clear 
of her throat. 

The man just in through the stern lights flung him¬ 
self forward at Martin’s legs, staggering him. The two 
others hurled Lilias aside and flung themselves on 
the captain. He went down under the heap of them. 
Jennifer dazed, in pain, dragged herself from under 
the dead man, looked on the writhing and stamping 
group with horrifled eyes. She was numb before this 
growling and animal encounter. It was Lilias, soft, 
powerful, her splendid lithe shoulders and arms 
showing white through her rent blouse, who bent for¬ 
ward and picked up the fallen dagger. 

From the gout of clawing, punching men a dago 
flopped, yelping. He no longer had any desire to 
fight. Sondes’s fist had done that much for him. But 
he was still dangerous. Martin rearing up, one man 
caught by the throat, the other with his face held 
tightly against Martin’s body, staggered across the 
cabin. The man who had fallen thrust out a foot and 
Sonders crashed. 

One dago tore free from the hand at his throat in 
that impact, the other writhed sideways and locked 
Martin’s arms and legs for an instant. He knew that 
an instant would be enough, and shouted: 

^^The knife, quick!” 

The other, with the spring of a cat, came with the 
knife for Sondes’s broad, defenceless back. 

It was Lilias who stopped him. A cat, a panther 
55 



The Brute 


herself, she leaped forward to meet the dago as he 
sprang. She thrust out her knife with a strong, 
straight arm. There was no skill in her action, but 
it sufficed; the impetus of the man^s own movement 
took him on to the point. It entered at the armpit, 
just under the biceps, and his stabbing arm was 
powerless. 

He had only begun to scream when Martin’s fist 
slammed him right across the cabin. A heave, and 
the man clinging to the captain was tossed 
through the air, to come smashing against the edge 
of the broad seat under the stern lights. He wriggled 
on to his hands, dragged himself to the windows 
and through them, his left leg trailing at a queer 
angle. The man who had dropped out of the fight 
was already half-way through. The one who had 
been stabbed stopped merely to cast one look at 
Sondes before bolting on deck and over the side. 

That part of the battle was over. Martin sprang 
to the stern ports, saw that the boat was pulling 
away and began to close the ports. From above there 
came a brisk rattle of shooting. He turned back at 
once, faced Jennifer. 

^^Get these closed,” he said, then he saw she was 
trembling. You’re not hurt?” 

^^No,” she whispered, ^T’m not hurt.” 

Hid she half expect some sympathy? She did not 
get it. His eyes swept from her to Lilias, big, splen¬ 
did, laughing softly in his face. His head indicated 
the windows, as though he knew it was not necessary 
to give her an order. Then, as he moved towards the 

56 



Nerve Wins 


deck, he saw his pistol, picked it up, came back and 
gave it not to Jennifer but to Lilias. 

‘^You’ll know now you don’t have to be delicate 
with that,” he said, and went quickly upon deck. 

Lilias, swinging the last port to, turned and laughed 
outright. 

^^He’s a tremendous, a great, ruthless berserker of 
a man—I love him!” 

Jennifer only shuddered and cried: ^Ws brutish! 
Disgustingly brutal!” 

But her heart was feeling sore. It had been Lilias 
who had saved his life. It had been to Lilias he had 
turned in the crisis. Lilias had satisfied him. For 
no reason at all that hurt Jennifer. 

On deck the situation was looking ugly. The tug 
was bearing down on the Evelyn Hope in clumsy, 
sheering bumps. She was steering like a sick ele¬ 
phant, for the man at the wheel was not of the stuff 
of heroes, and worked the spokes fiat on his stomach 
—the shooting from the schooner had been much too 
accurate for his taste. His orders were to put the 
two vessels alongside, but from the look of things he 
was more likely to drop the tug pounding on to the 
schooner’s deck from the crest of one of the big, slow 
waves beating in from the harbour mouth. 

His companions and masters on the tug may have 
realized this, and no doubt it was the reason why 
their shooting, though vigorous and frequent, was 
very bad. All the same the snapping of the shots and 
the whine of the bullets overhead were unnerving to 
Paul and Bevis. 


57 



The Brute 


Martin Sondes seemed to take such things as a 
matter of course. He stood fully exposed on the 
poop, staring with speculative eyes at the tug, the 
harbour mouth and the sea beyond. He moved over 
to his mate, took his pistol and ordered: 

‘^Get the engine started up. Tell Jim to stand by 
to slip that kedge.’’ 

He ran to the wheel. In a moment or two the roar 
of the auxiliary engine lifted through the ship, the 
screw began to bite, and the Evelyn Hope started to 
point ahead, straining at the kedge anchor. 

^^Let her go!’’ Martin yelled, and the schooner 
thrilled and stepped forward. The tug was sidling 
towards them, lifting high, hanging over them, threat¬ 
ening to come crash on to the starboard bow. 

^^Full astern!” shouted Sondes, and put the wheel 
over. 

He had timed his movement like a boxer side-step¬ 
ping. The tug, her engines rung to full-speed ahead 
to meet the schooner’s movement, swooped giddily 
downward on to the Evelyn Hope’s very stem. A few 
feet clearance, and that was all. It was enough. 
The schooner, turning inside, wore round until the 
tug passed her length. Then she straightened, and 
went ahead; she sprang past the crazy tender so close 
astern that Bevis Probyn, looking down, felt that he 
could have leaped on to the tug’s deck. 

The tug was clawing and sliding and backing like 
a bull that has overshot its victim. Pascobas was 
frantically striving to bring her round. The Evelyn 

58 



Nerve Wins 


Hope, pointing her pretty nose straight at the angry 
water at the harbour mouth, headed for sea. 

Jim, the deck hand, coiling down after slipping 
the hedge, looked at the sea outside the harbour, at 
Sondes at the wheel, and then with an anxious grin 
at Probyn. 

‘^Shall we be able to get out?’^ asked Bevis. 
wouldn’t. Guess he will,” said the hand. 

^^Dangerous?” asked Bevis. 

^^For you or me, fatal,” said the man. ^^For him— 
he’s made me take miracles as a sorter ’abit.” 

!No doubt about the hero-worship there! Martin 
Sondes might seem rough, uncouth, brutalized to 
their Mayfair tastes, but he was a real man to the 
real men who served him. 

A snapping of orders came from the wheel; the 
man leaped to do incomprehensible things with the 
sails. The schooner heeled, heading, Bevis felt sure, 
straight at the harbour wall. He was beginning to 
hold his breath for the crash when he heard the 
whistle of a bullet near his head. 

Pascobas had clawed the tug round and she was 
racing to pass them. Crazy though her engines were 
they could beat the auxiliary motor on the Evelyn 
Hope. And those on her were shooting. Bevis 
guessed rather than saw that the fusillade must be 
mainly directed at Sondes, standing firm and four¬ 
square at the wheel. The ruffians hoped to shake him 
and bring disaster to the schooner, but he showed no 
sign—only kept the schooner heading steadily at the 
harbour opening. 


59 



The Brute 


Bevis did his best to distract attention by firing 
at the tug, now well abreast, but soon he stopped. 
The schooner was beginning to feel the thrust of the 
heavy seas, the pound of them, the smash of them on 
her fo’c’sle head. Accurate shooting was impossible, 
and the interest of all was centred on the race for the 
harbour mouth between the schooner and the tug—a 
desperate race in a desperate sea that stopped all 
men^s breaths and all desire to shoot. 

It seemed inevitable that tug and schooner would 
come together in the very harbour mouth with a 
ghastly smash. They were heading on lines bound 
to bring them together. It was a matter of nerves; 
of which helmsman would hold longer to the course. 
They thrust nearer to each other. The rage of the 
incoming seas caught them and tossed them danger¬ 
ously. The sea walls of the harbour came close to 
them, caging them. Nerve—a matter of nerve! Mar¬ 
tin Sondes, at his wheel, looked to have nerves of 
iron. Pascobas would never stand up to him. 

Pascobas, in fact, did not want to, but behind him, 
jumping on anxious toes, stood the long, thin figure 
of Cipriano Bravo, and Cipriano’s pistol was far too 
close to Pascobas’s belt-line. The tug-skipper raved 
of danger and a watery death, but Cipriano’s pistol 
said, ^^Go on,” and Pascobas went on. 

Sondes seemed to realize it. He yelled orders 
sharply, put over his wheel. Bevis sighed; he had 
not expected Martin Sondes to give in. Then he 
laughed. Sondes had done anything but that. He 

60 



Nerve Wins 


had altered course, but in the wrong direction—he 
was going slap at the tug! 

He was bearing down on her in a smother of 
angry water. As the Evelyn Hope lifted, those on 
the tug saw her cruel forefoot gleaming, and could 
guess to an inch on what spot abaft the engine-room 
it would smash home. Pascobas saw it too well, so 
did Cipriano—and they knew Martin Sondes, knew 
he was not a man to stop for such a trifle as a tug 
full of dagos. 

Pascobas screamed and wrenched the wheel over, 
and Cipriano let him do it. He only cursed when 
he saw the schooner swing ofP, shaving them by 
inches, escaping. By that time the tug was round 
too far for recovery; Pascobas, indeed, was occupied 
in preventing his crazy craft from ramming the sea 
wall; he had no time even to think of the seven 
thousand pounds on the schooner. 

On the Evelyn Hope they also had their preoccupa¬ 
tions. The mate was at the wheel, and Martin and 
the two Britishers were busy with the crew. They 
were kicking them out of the still smouldering fo’c’sle 
back to their work. There was need of it; to claw 
away from the harbour was a fight with death, with 
only the seamanship of Sondes to pull them through. 

As for the fire in the fo’c^sle—they took enough 
seas aboard to deal with what was left of that. 



CHAPTER IX 
LILIAS 


P AUL and Bevis learnt, through a night of 
labour and weariness that nearly killed them, 
what it meant to claw a schooner out from land 
against that terrible sea. 

They laboured on the ropes waist deep in water, 
they worked on the yards clinging like leeches. They 
reeled drunken with fatigue and Martin Sondes and 
the mate lashed them awake with their tongues. Paul, 
sullenly, remembered he ought to rebel in those mo¬ 
ments when he was not swept clean away by the 
sheer, sweeping force of necessary work. Once he 
did rebel, or he thought he did. He snarled revolt 
at a ruthless figure that bawled orders, and the next 
instant he found himself flung along the deck and 
attached to halliards as though some power stronger 
than his own had mastered him. He did not know 
whether he had been attacked physically, or whether 
the force of the weather and circumstances had ren¬ 
dered his obedience automatic. 

Long before dawn both men were wooden figures, 
doing what w^as ordered almost unconsciously and 
despite fatigue. They even did not kick dagos when 
they snivelled, just shoved them aside so that they 
should not hamper work. By dawn they were well 
off the coast, spinning down it on a snoring wind. 

62 


Lilias 


Martin Sondes, still four-square, a man of iron, gave 
his last commands and they trailed limply to the 
saloon. They had some sleep hut Martin Sondes 
did not sleep. It was afternoon before he left the 
deck. It was then they saw that he had been 
wounded. 

Jennifer felt a little thrill when she saw the rough 
bandage round his arm, but again it was Lilias who 
acted. It was obvious that she delighted in this 
chance of a flirtation. She went up to him, touched 
the bandage, and said: think I had better deal 

with that.’’ 

“No need,” he said calmly, looking straight at her. 
“Topi has already done what is necessary.” 

“So I saw,” she smiled, “but a wound is better for 
expert dressing.” 

“This is only a scratch, and I am quite com¬ 
fortable.” 

She deliberately undid the bandage, her fingers felt 
swiftly and knowledgeably at the red score a bullet 
had made across the flexoids, and those fingers did 
more. Jennifer could see how seductively they 
caressed and lingered over the great muscles of the 
big arm, and again she felt that soreness in her 
heart. 

The man was a brute. He had treated her with a 
rudeness and harshness that was unforgivable. His 
attitude suggested that she, the acknowledged beauty 
of her set, was of very small account to him. She 
hated him-—and yet it hurt her that Lilias and not 

63 



The Brute 


herself was dealing with that wound. It almost 
pained her to feel that Lilias was winning him. 

But she wasn’t, really. Martin Sondes was as calm 
and as hard as ever under Lilias’s trained seductions. 
He was even looking down at the big, soft, smiling 
girl with a hint of appraisement and amusement in 
his level glance. 

believe,” thought Jennifer, ^^he has her measure.” 
There was nothing at all spiteful in Jennifer’s make¬ 
up, and yet she was strangely pleased at the thought. 

. . . Queer, for she was certain she hated Martin 
Sondes. 

^‘Does it surprise you that a pretty and luxurious 
and utterly inconsequent person like me shows her¬ 
self possessed of practical virtues?” Lilias smiled 
up to Martin Sondes as she selected dressings from 
the ship’s drug chest. 

^T’m afraid it doesn’t,” said Martin calmly, have 
heard that Ked Gross work is common in most 
circles.” 

^What a pity!” she said in her slow mockery. 
^^You rob my one gift of the charm of surprise.” 

^^So I guessed,” he said quietly, and Lilias taken 
aback dropped her slow glance. That was a trifle 
too direct even from an adorable brute. It showed 
far too much penetration. He was practically—well, 
warning her off. Something within her—anger or 
determination—stiffened. 

To Jennifer the words had brought almost pleasure. 
Why? She did not know why. She did know, how¬ 
ever, that this big man—whom she hated—^was not 

64 



Lilias 


at all in danger of falling under the spell of Lilias. 
She became almost friendly to the man. She turned 
quickly from the contemplation of the matted jungle 
that slid by the ship far away to port, and came 
towards the pair. She said: 

^^Captain Sondes, I haven^t thanked you—I can^t 
ever thank you properly for saving my: life last 
night.’^ 

He looked at her steadily over Lilias’s shoulder. 
Did he realize the beauty, the fresh loveliness of her 
proud and exquisite little face? He showed no sign 
of it. He said simply: 

^We don’t thank each other for that sort of thing 
out here, Miss Daun. It is so much a matter of 
course.” 

^^That,” Lilias observed, standing back and giving 
him the full, deep fire of her dark eyes, ^^that explains 
why you haven’t thanked me for saving yours. Cap¬ 
tain Sondes.” 

Her face expressed the mocking boldness of her 
words. She was very beautiful in her slow, rich, 
enticing way. 

“You want me to thank you. Miss Seyler?” 

“Perhaps not, but to remember —^yes.” 

“That is one of the reasons why we don’t thank,” 
he said with a grim smile. “We don’t want people to 
feel that it is remembered against them, we don’t 
want them to feel beholden.” 

Lilias gave him a quick, frowning look. Keally, 
for a brute he was dangerously shrewd—and bold. 

65 



The Brute 


^^You don’t want Jennifer to feel under any obli¬ 
gation?” she asked softly. 

^^She is under none.” 

‘‘I have not your generous spirit. I like people 
to be under obligation to me,” Lilias smiled. 

^^So I saw.” 

The full, soft lips smiling at him suddenly com¬ 
pressed, the lashes dropped to hide the flash of anger 
that leaped to her eyes. The brute was not so simple 
after all, or rather he was clever enough to know 
that simple downrightness was the most effective 
shield against her soft, purring and feline arts. She 
felt baffled, she felt angry, but she felt anything but 
beaten. She would teach him a lesson, the lesson 
that Delilah taught that other Samson who was, un¬ 
doubtedly, just as rude and as boorish and sure of 
himself. She would both play with and punish the 
fellow. 

She allowed her dark eyes to rest glowingly on his. 

^^As long as you see, Martin”— a deliberate pause 
—^^Sondes, we understand each other.” 

^^Yes,” he said, understand.” 

She could have stamped her foot in anger against 
the calm, sure way he turned her own weapons 
against her. Jennifer who had been queerly dis¬ 
turbed by Lilias’s seductive tactics almost laughed at 
her friend’s defeat. Martin Sondes saw through 
Lilias—she was almost glad that he was immune. 
Yet, to prevent herself showing that gladness, she 
left the pair and went on deck. 

‘‘You have driven her away,” Lilias, quick to make 
66 



Lilias 


the most of things, said. She was bending over the 
bandage so that her dark hair touched his cheek— 
she knew the effect of that on men. ^^You are too 
harsh and jarring an experience for her, Martin 
Sondes.” 

^^That is more than likely,” he agreed evenly. 

^^You don’t seem to mind her detesting you,” she 
whispered. 

^‘You exaggerate her interest,” he answered quietly. 

^^Is that modesty or indifference?” she smiled. 

^^Does it matter?” 

^^No,” she admitted, suppose it doesn’t.” She 
was wondering whether it really was indifference in 
him, or strength. But she knew awe of strength 
was flattering. suppose to a man as strong as 
you it is immaterial what we butterfly women think 
of you?” 

That ought to entangle him. He might say some¬ 
thing harsh about butterfly women, and she could 
make the most of that—with Jennifer. He might 
rise to a compliment, and she could make the most 
of that—for herself. 

^Tt is certainly immaterial what I think of them,” 
he said quietly, and again she could have stamped at 
the calm way he had walked out of her trap. 

^^That’s it,” she murmured, adjusting his bandage 
so that he could feel the play of her long, delicate 
fingers on his absurdly strong arm. ^‘You are strong 
enough not to care either way. You’re frightfully 
strong, Martin—and frightening. Fm frightened of 
you.” 


67 



The Brute 


That was an old trick of hers. Tell a man you 
are afraid of him and he immediately sees himself 
as an irresistible conqueror and sets out to play the 
part. 

^Tf that is true/^ said Martin Sondes with his 
grim smile, ^^you are undergoing an experience unique 
for you. But it doesnT happen to be true, Miss 
Seyler.’^ 

He went out in his usual swift way leaving her 
furiously angry. He had had her measure all the 
time, and he had snubbed her— her! 

Paul Glen, coming into the cabin a moment later, 
found her by the table with a look of slow, cruel 
anger upon her face. He stared at her, asked: 

^‘What is it, Lilias? Anything wrong 

She heard his voice before she saw him, but at 
once her quick wits were at work. She turned to 
him with a really brilliant gasp of relief. 

^^Oh, Paul,” she cried with a half sob, which was 
not altogether artificial, ^T’m glad you came. I’m 
glad he heard you coming!” 

Paul was only too ready to jump at a conclusion. 

^What is it? That was Sondes in here, wasn’t it? 
What’s he been up to now?” 

Lilias had all the appearances of pulling herself 
together: ‘^Oh, it’s all right. ... it doesn’t matter. 
I was foolish. . . . We can’t have more trouble. 
Only—well, my dear, I’m glad you came when you 
did.” 

^^Has that cur been. ...” 

^‘No! No! It’s really all right,” she cried with 
68 



Lilias 


an air of soothing him. “It’s—well, he can’t help 
being uncouth, only sometimes he carries it too far.” 

“That’s a fact,” said Paul furiously. “He wants 
keeping in his place.” 

“Especially where women are concerned,” whis¬ 
pered Lilias. 

“By God!” snarled Paul. “That’s the sort of 
beast he is, is he? I suspected it. He’d better be 
careful.” 

With his mouth set grimly he stamped up on deck, 
where he stood glaring at the broad back of the 
captain. He would have been glad of any excuse for 
fighting Sondes, but there was none. Martin Son¬ 
des was attending to his duties as though there was 
no such thing as a feminine skirt within a thousand 
miles. 

Lilias watched Paul go up to the deck with darkly 
smiling eyes: “I can always make life amusing,” 
she told herself. “If he thinks I am an up-to-date 
edition of a vampire I had better play up to the 
character. . . . Besides he must feel, realize, that 
I am not to be despised.” 

If Martin Sondes had looked into her dark eyes 
as she stared up the companionway he might have 
known some uneasiness. This was certainly not a 
woman to be treated lightly in hate—or in love. 



CHAPTER X 


MY LADY DEVIL 


'TER a day of perfect sailing, the wind dropped 



and left them all but becalmed off the gold- 


green coast that showed blurred and mys¬ 
terious through the heat haze on their port beam. 

For the best part of the second day these condi¬ 
tions continued, and yet, in the afternoon, they saw 
a topsail lifting above the horizon astern. There 
was nothing particularly remarkable about that top¬ 
sail save that, though there was so definite a lack 
of wind that the Evelyn Hope was barely making 
steerageway, the vessel that they had sighted must 
be coming after them at at least an eight-knot clip. 

Also there was the fact that neither Martin Sondes 
nor his mate were pleased at its appearance. 

^TPs the Donna Diaha/’ Martin Sondes told Jenni¬ 
fer when she asked, and he laughed shortly. ^^My 
Lady Devil^ she is well christened.’^ 

^^How can you tell who she is?” asked Jennifer, 
who was finding herself on an increasingly friendly 
footing with Martin Sondes. 

^^By that patch on the tops’l.” 

^^They seem to have the wind,” Bevis remarked. 

^Xo, that’s their auxiliary. It’s a big American 
crude-oil engine and they are crowding it.” 

They all turned quickly at that. ^^You mean,” said 


70 


My Lady Devil 


Jennifer in a queer voice, ^^that vessel is following 
us?” 

‘Tascobas owns a half share in her,” said Martin 
Sondes. He measured the distance to the Donna 
Diaha with a casual glance, swept the shore with his 
eyes and walked forward to talk with the mate. 
When he came back to the group Jennifer said: 

^Tascobas, after all, is the least dangerous of 
those ruffians.” 

^^Hedl have Cipriano on board,” said Martin Son¬ 
des. ^^Cipriano will have seen to that. Gronzala, 
the skipper of the Donna, is as big a brute as the 
others, too—and a good seaman into the bargain. 
He is a big, tough, daring fellow with the manners 
of a nobleman. He’s not so unscrupulous as the 
others, but, in his way, quite as ruthless. A danger¬ 
ous man, and not an utterly ignoble one.” 

^Wou speak almost with affection for his quali¬ 
ties,” said Lilias softly. 

speak of him as I have found him. He is not a 
bad fellow to meet, but a wicked one to tackle on a 
business like ours. He’ll not be put off unless we 
stop him, or until he gets that seven thousand pounds 
into his strong-room.” 

^Wou seem to have a fondness for brutes,” sneered 
Paul. 

prefer them to mean whites,” Martin said 
quietly. ‘^There is at least one white man I’d see 
hanged before I’d hang Gonzala.” 

^^The man who did such terrible things to the 
friendly Indians?” asked Jennifer. 

71 



The Brute 


^^Yes, that man, though that wasn’t his only piece 
of villainy. There are other things for which that 
man must pay some day. He’s rotten all through, 
that man, though he was a gentleman once. He’s 
slipped me half a dozen times when I thought the 
hunt was ended—but I’ll get him yet.” He laughed. 
^Tf you like, that is a reason why we need not fear 
those dagos on the Donna —I’ve simply got to go on 
existing until I catch that gentleman and deal with 
him.” 

There was a hint of inexorable passion in Martin 
Sondes’s voice that held the others silent. As they 
stood, weighted by the atmosphere of ruthlessness 
this man had thrown out, there came the stammer of 
the oil-engine of the Evelyn Hope picking up and get¬ 
ting into its stride. Soon it settled down to work¬ 
manlike throbbing and the schooner began to press 
ahead, swinging a point towards port and heading 
closer in shore. 

The noise of the auxiliary motor seemed to break 
the spell of oppression Martin Sondes’s words had 
caused. The party stirred in relief. Lilias’s slurring 
voice came: 

^^So you as well as Jennifer are an instrument of 
vengeance, Captain Sondes? And you seem to fol¬ 
low parallel ideals. You hunt a man who has done 
great wrongs, Jennifer does exactly the same. And 
you both hunt him on this very South American sea¬ 
board. Isn’t that very curious?” 

Her mocking eyes passed from Martin Sondes’s 
face to Jennifer’s. There was a queer, bright light 
72 



My Lady Devil 


in her glance as though, suddenly, she had guessed 
at some secret, was enjoying some hidden and mali¬ 
cious joke. Jennifer, Bevis, Paul, knowing her, felt 
uncomfortable. She went on: 

^^You must tell us all about your hunting. Captain 
Sondes. It will be thrilling to hear you two 
avengers comparing notes—and who knows how use¬ 
ful?’’ Her low laugh marked her words, under¬ 
lined them. ‘^Who knows but that will be the very 
means for each to find the prey!” 

Again she laughed, again all were uncomfortable, 
and more than uncomfortable. It was as though 
Lilias with her feline intuitions had touched upon 
something hinting at future danger. They were all 
silent, oppressed. They stood without speaking, 
staring at the lifting sails of the Donna Diaha astern. 

All that afternoon the Evelyn Hope ran up the sul¬ 
len, sun-harsh coast, and all that afternoon the Donna 
Diaba crept up on her. 

They could not shake her off. Without adequate 
wind the race was a tussle between oil engines, and 
the more powerful American motor won. She came 
up and up, lifting above the horizon line, growing 
nearer, bulking larger. Her advance was slow but 
inexorable. An hour before sunset she was almost 
abeam. The anxious passengers on the schooner and 
the more anxious crew watched the sun shining in a 
swathe of orange glory along her sleek, black hull, 
and on her patched and dirty sails. She was omi¬ 
nous. She followed silent, inscrutable, relentless, 
graceful. In the dead tropic quiet muffling that sun- 

73 



The Brute 


drenched world, all seemed to experience a sense of 
bated breath, as though the murderers on the pur¬ 
suing deck threw out a miasma of evil. 

And still she came on and on. 

‘^She’s like the Hound of Heaven,’^ said Lilias 
softly; and, in her slurring and penetrating voice, she 
quoted the lines: 

^‘Nigh and nigh draws the chase, 

With unperturbed pace, 

Deliberate speed, majestic instancy, 

Came on the following Feet- 

Martin Sondes, behind her, said quietly: 

'‘They beat, and a voice beat 
More instant than the Feet, 

'All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.^ ’’ 

‘‘ThaFs quoted out of place,’’ said Lilias, turning 
to him, ''and I don’t see that it is quite apt.” 

"Don’t you?” he said, and he looked straight at 
her. 

She stared at him, and quite suddenly the word 
"betray” leaped into her mind. She gasped, and 
knew he had meant her to see that. That meant— 
what did it mean? Did he realize that she meant 
to cause friction? Did he know that she had tried 
to set him against Jennifer and Paul against him? 
. . . Had he, too, also his intuitions and felt that 
in drawing a parallel between his man-hunt and Jen¬ 
nifer’s she was on mischief bent? That almost made 
her gasp again, because it was so nearly playing into 
her hands. But even that satisfaction was overcome 
74 



My Lady Devil 


by her anger at bis words. He bad accused ber. He 
had named ber “betrayer/^ traitor. He bad seen 
through her and—and insulted her. Her strong 
bands clenched and she could have struck him. So 
Delilah might have looked had Samson exposed her 
treachery. 

But Martin Sondes had finished with her; he was 
talking quietly to Jennifer. 

^^That oil engine of hers has given her the pace of 
us. If it was a mere matter of sailing they would 
never have caught us. Now we must depend upon 
something more than seamanship to save ourselves.’’ 

^^If we could only put that wretched engine out 
of action!” she cried. 

He looked at her quickly and laughed. 

are visited by the same idea, Miss Daun.” 

‘^But that doesn’t help us to do it?” 

^^You have no suggestion?” 

^‘Nothing.” She smiled back, and she was very 
beautiful when she smiled. am thinking of long- 
range guns, and all that sort of thing. But those 
thoughts are wild.” 

^^Have you any plans yourself. Captain Sondes?” 
asked Paul, in his aloof voice. 

Martin Sondes nodded. He took a step towards 
the quartermaster, gave an order to the mate, and 
stood watching as the ship began to wear. He was 
heading her, it seemed, straight towards the coast. 

^^That is the first move in my plan,” he said, re¬ 
turning to them. 

^^Setting riddles for your passengers is rather a 
75 



The Brute 


childish sport, isn’t it, Captain.” said Lilias, her 
voice not so purring as usual. 

^^There is no riddle here,” he answered evenly, 
going to try and beat Gonzala by cunning, that 
is all. You probably recognize the reasons for that. 
He has a bigger crew aboard. They are more re¬ 
liable than my lot. They are also ruffians. He un¬ 
doubtedly intends to lay aboard me, if he can; at night 
if possible, by day if necessary. He intends to do it 
willy-nilly, and if he does it successfully, we’re done. 
Gonzala, as a ruffian, is thorough. He will get us 
anyhow, but he will prefer to do it comfortably and 
without fuss.” He turned upon them eyes that 
twinkled a little. intend to give him his chance 
of doing it comfortably and without fuss.” 

His listeners gave a little gasp. 

Paul cried indignantly: 

say. I don’t see that you have any reason for 
running us into unnecessary danger.” 

It was Jennifer who quenched his protest. 

^^Be quiet, Paul,” she said evenly. don’t think 
Captain Sondes is the one to do anything like that.” 

Her eyes were fixed steadily on Martin Sondes. 
Lilias saw the reliance in them and sneered: 

“Ah, so we begin to understand our resolute cap¬ 
tain?” 

“Yes, I think I am understanding,” Jennifer an¬ 
swered; and Lilias frowned at the light she saw 
coming into the girl’s eyes. 

“There will be danger,” said Sondes, a little curtly. 
“Keal danger. I do not minimize it. On the other 
76 



My Lady Devil 


hand, my plan should be effective. We face, as you 
know, a two-fold risk from these brutes. The first 
is direct. While they are hanging on our heels there 
is always danger of attack. We^re going to try and 
stop them hanging on to our heels. If we do that, we 
will solve the other danger, too. You understand 
that to reach Fogasta with these people dogging us, 
making trouble, will simply wreck the whole plan for 
rescuing Eonald Buckingham.^^ 

“Who?’’ asked Lilias, as though surprised at the 
name; and Jennifer, Paul, and Bevis frowned quickly 
at her slip. 

Sondes looked at her coldly as he answered: 

“Eonald Buckingham, Miss Daun’s half-brother.” 

“Of course, of course!” cried Lilias; and the con¬ 
fusion she did not feel at all (for her “apparent” slip 
was deliberate) was extremely well done. “That was 
extremely stupid of me! I was forgetting.” 

Martin Sondes’s eyes rested upon her for a minute. 
She knew that she had set him thinking, set his sus¬ 
picions working, but she knew, too, that he could read 
the lie. The word “betray” came into her mind once 
more, as though he had sent it there, and she was 
filled with a cold fury against him. 

]N'evertheless, he went on evenly: 

“We cannot let those people know we are going to 
Fogasta, even. For them to follow us there will 
arouse an attention and suspicion that will be fatal 
to our aim. It will mean prison—a Latin-American 
prison—or worse, for us if they give our intentions 
away.” 


77 



The Brute 


^^They don^t know our intentions?” said Paul. 

^^No, but they will discover them. People of your 
stamp with seven thousand pounds of ready money 
on them do not go to Fogasta merely for pleasure, 
and the mere presence of that money—well the citi¬ 
zens of Fogasta, from the president down, have the 
national instinct for sequestrating cash. Our friends 
must not follow us to Fogasta. We have to stop 
them. We will try to. But I warn you it is going 
to be a desperate business, and you will all be in it.” 

Jennifer smiled at him. 

‘^We anticipated desperate things when we started 
out. Captain Sondes,” she said, ‘Ve have not changed, 
though we are learning, perhaps, how green we were 
at the beginning.” 

^^Learning fast and well, I think,” he answered’ 
and Lilias’s eyes smouldered at his tone. 

Before the bows of the Evelyn Hope^ in the dense 
tangle of jungle coming down into the very sea itself, 
a broad sombre lane was opening out. The schooner 
headed for this lane, making, it seemed, right into the 
heart of the virgin forest. As the massed trees robbed 
them of the wind and the sails began to shudder and 
snap, Martin Sondes turned and looked towards the 
Donna Diaha. She, too, had swung to port, was fol¬ 
lowing them in. 

A green, heavy dusk took them as they slid between 
walls of verdure. The threatening mass of the humid 
and brooding forest closed about them. Its silence 
was brooding, too; heavy, thick, oppressive. The 
hammer of the motor came back as though from solid 
78 



My Lady Devil 


walls. The whisper of the ropes and the creak of the 
blocks sounded eerily. It was like sailing in a tomb 
over the waters of the dead. 

Thick trees were everywhere, crowding down to the 
water^s edge, into the water itself. Mangue roots 
stood out of the dark, coffee-coloured stream like 
writhing snakes, glistening, loathsome. Aninga 
weed, with its pale dank flowers, packed the banks 
and fought for the water; behind it birity palm and 
ciriuba and paradise wood and rank upon rank of 
trees massed back to apparent infinity. And lashing 
all together were the vines; the cipos, star flowered 
and dripping green, that seemed to let down evil, 
greedily clutching feelers; above all the devil vine 
with its twisted ropes that strangled trees to death. 
A thick, dank mass of evil it was, smelling of secret 
and terrible decay, the breath of it coming out thick, 
hot, foul and fever-laden from the swamps about the 
roots. 

On the tree summits, where they shot up towering 
to reach the sun, the dying day was setting a band of 
gold, and in the gold was the jewel shine of umbrella 
heads of rare, blazing flowers. Butter-yellow and 
scarlet, heliotrope and purple, blue and deep ox- 
blood red, they shone with a fabulously bright prodi¬ 
gality in the blaze of the sunlight; and down the trees 
were strewn hanging flowers, glinting amid the green, 
like gems dropped from the profusion above and 
caught in the fine, emerald scarves of the vines. And 
across and across birds flashed, the flamingo like a 
streak of fire; the hyacinthine macaw a skimming 

79 



The Brute 


jewel and a myriad other wing-beats, each a flash of 
living colour. The beauty and the brooding of the 
jungle enfolded the schooner. Its colouring had a 
passionate allure, yet the dry barking of the bearded 
monkeys in the dark depths sounded like a witches 
warning. 

All sails were furled; only the auxiliary motor 
drummed on and the wall of the jungle hedged them 
forever. 

^^This rather thrills me/’ Lilias cried softly. 
feel like coming home —I feel a jungle power in me.” 
feel oppressed and afraid,” said Jennifer. 

^Tsn’t there even a loophole in this green wall?” 

Martin Sondes gave an order, the Evelyn Hope 
swung to starboard. As before, there opened out 
ahead a channel, so narrow that it seemed the gloomy 
and evil mass of verdure on either side could send out 
its octopus arms of vines to pluck them from the 
very deck. 

Down this channel they went a short way and 
came into a still lagoon sitting sombrely in the heart 
of the trees. Again a command and then the roaring 
of the anchor chain forward amid a great stamping 
and bustling of men. 

^^You’re anchoring here for the night?” Bevis 
asked. 

^^Not exactly,” Sondes said. ^^That noise forward 
is for the beneflt of Gonzala. He’ll be certain IVe 
got my hook deep in this mud for the night. He will 
be pleased to hear it. What you heard was mainly 

80 



My Lady Devil 


chain—and noisy at that. There goes my real 
anchor.” 

A boat dropped from the side of the schooner and 
shot towards the nearest trees. In a very short time 
the vessel was securely tied up by warps that could 
be easily slipped. 

Deep silence enfolded them again. Once more they 
seemed to be in a dead world, with the witch bark of 
the monkeys emphasizing its lifelessness. Then 
gradually they heard, building up through the 
silence, the harsh hammering of the Donna Diana’s 
motor. 

^A'ouTl see her if you look astern,” said Martin 
Sondes. ^T’ve arranged that everybody should get a 
good view.” 

In a minute they saw the long, sleek profile of the 
Donna Diaha slide past the end of the channel, and 
men crowded her rail staring at the Evelyn Hope. 
Jennifer even saw, through the leaves, a man high in 
the cross-trees. Then the wall of jungle blocked the 
view and the sinister vessel was gone. 

But they could hear her. In that jungle silence 
sounds carried mth a stark and uncanny penetration. 
The hammer of the auxiliary engine was shut off, 
there came the barking of orders, the commotion and 
the shouting of men working hastily; the distinct and 
emphatic noise of a ship coming to anchor. But only 
in a figurative sense. There was no roaring of an¬ 
chor chain through the hawse-hole of the Donna 
Diaha. 

‘^Just tying up,” said Sondes, with his even smile. 

81 



The Brute 


alert customer, Gonzala. He’ll be ready to slip 
down on me at the first clink of my windlass or the 
snarl of my anchor chain coming in. He feels he has 
us safe, but is taking no risks.” 

^^But you can slip off as quickly as he,” said 
Jennifer. 

“He doesn’t know that,” Sondes explained. “I 
hope he is convinced by the sounds he heard that I am 
so rooted in here that it’ll take me the best part of 
half an hour to get under way. As a matter of fact, 
we could go out now—tow out with muffled oars—and 
he’d never know.” 

“But that wouldn’t serve our purpose?” Bevis sug¬ 
gested. 

“We’ve got to stop those merchants coming after 
us to Fogasta,” said Sondes. He thought a minute. 
“This is my plan. The Donna Diaha is in another 
creek a quarter of a mile above this. Gonzala feels 
safe there. He’ll probably have a boat watching us, 
anyhow. To-night he intends to attack us.” 

“Surely they know that we’ll be expecting them?” 
Glen objected. 

“That won’t make any difference to Gonzala or 
Cipriano,” Sondes said. “They have numbers on 
their side. They know our crew won’t fight. In fact, 
they are not going to, Mr. Glen. They’re going to 
be packed into the fo’c’sle, and you and Mr. Probyn 
will see that they don’t get out of it.” 

Paul frowned darkly. Lilias murmured: 

“Policeman’s work seems to be your lot, Paul. 

82 



My Lady Devil 


You will be fully trained by the time you reach Lon¬ 
don again/’ 

Under the sting of that Paul said huffily: 

think I would prefer something more active or 
sporting, Captain Sondes.” 

i^We’re not being sporting,” Martin answered 
grimly. ^^This is business, the business of fighting 
for our lives. I’m giving you the job you are best 
for.” 

^^And you will do as you are told—like a good boy,” 
murmured Lilias in Paul’s ear. 

If Martin Sondes heard her whisper to Paul, he 
made no sign. It was Bevis Probyn who looked 
anxious, and said: 

“And, of course, we will be in danger from an at¬ 
tack from outside, too?” 

“Plenty of danger,” Sondes assured him grimly. 
“There may be even an occasion for Miss Seyler to use 
her fighting qualities.” 

“Ah, you recognize I have them?” she said with her 
lazy, veiled smile. 

“I appreciate all your capacities,” he retorted 
evenly. 

Their eyes met, and Lilias saw that he knew her 
through and through and meant to fight her. It was 
in that look of recognition, that war was declared 
between them. 

Sondes went on: 

“I am serving out arms to you. I hope you will 
not have to use them. If it becomes necessary you 
must not hesitate for a moment. You must under- 

83 



The Brute 


stand you are up against men who will kill at the 
slightest weakness.’^ 

Jennifer said with a note in her voice that made 
Lilias sneer: 

^^This is all about us. You are telling us what to 
do presently. Won^t you be here, Captain Sondes?’’ 

^^Not all the time/’ he said. 

^^Where will you be?” she demanded, and her voice 
was a little breathless. 

^J am going to put their motor out of action,” he 
answered. 

“Alone?” cried Jennifer, and her tone made Bevis 
look at her quickly. “You are going to that ship 
alone?” 

“It will be best done alone,” said Martin. 

Lilias’s lip curled. Her searching eyes saw that 
he had reacted to the tone in Jennifer’s voice. He 
had reddened. 

“So you are not so indifferent to one woman, any¬ 
how,” her mind cried, and her heart grew bitter. 

“That is too dangerous,” Jennifer protested in a 
voice that strove to be steady. “You can’t possibly 
venture alone on to that ship full of ruffians”—her 
voice shook—“only too ready to kill you out of hand.” 

“Being alone will be safer, Miss Daun,” said Son¬ 
des, his own voice unexpectedly gentle. “Alone I 
can slip aboard and do what has to be done unseen.” 

“No; it is dangerous,” Jennifer cried. “It—it en¬ 
dangers our expedition.” 

“Not if my plan works out,” Sondes said. “And I 
think it will. You see, I am to slip on board when 
84 



My Lady Devil 


there will he few men left on the ship.” He measured 
her with a glance. he exact, the crew of the 

Donna Diaha will have left her to attack—you.” 

They were all silent for a minute. He went on: 

^^My plan is sensible, I think. There will he, as I 
say, a boat watching us off this creek. They will de¬ 
pend on that boat to give them warning of anything 
untoward happening here. I intend to deal with 
that boat. When I have secured it, and the men in 
it, the Evelyn Hope will slip her warps and put out 
to sea. The tide will be on the run; that will help to 
carry her down. The schooner will be safe then. I 
will go up to the creek where the Donna is tied up. I 
will watch the crew get away to attack an Evelyn 
Hope that has not waited for them. When they are 
gone I will go aboard and deal with that engine. It 
is all straightforward enough.” 

<^Save for one thing. How do you get away. 
Captain?” 

will come straight down the river and out to 
sea to you. The schooner will be hanging about for 
me.” 

^Wou must have somebody to look after the boat 
while you are on board—^perhaps to shoot while you 
are escaping,” Jennifer advised. 

need. The boat I will use has a portable 
rudder motor. One man can do all he needs in a 
craft of that sort.” 

^^And if the boat is seen while you are out of it? 
What is to prevent a deck hand on the Donna sinking 
85 



The Brute 


it? Nothing, of course. You must have someone 
with you!” Jennifer's tone was final. 

^‘No,” said Sondes. ^‘This schooner has to be 
worked out, the crew watched, the defence under¬ 
taken. Not a man can be spared.” 

wasn’t thinking of a man,” said Jennifer, her 
colour heightening. coming!” 

Martin stared and said: 

‘^Hardly your job. Miss Jennifer.” 

‘^I’m coming!” she announced finally. ^^This time 
I’ll keep my nerve. And I can shoot.” 

‘^No,” said Sondes. ^^Much too risky!” 

“Don’t you think I am to be trusted?” she cried 
defiantly. 

He looked at her. 

“Yes, you are to be trusted. That isn’t the reason.” 

“It’s a matter of sex and sentiment,” said Lilias. 

“That is it,” he answered quietly. 

“There’s no room for sentiment in a business like 
ours,” Jennifer insisted, with a little laugh. “I’ve 
heard you say words to that effect. Captain Sondes, 
and there was never greater truth in them than at 
this moment. Nothing counts save carrying through 
effectively the thing we have to do, and to do that 
you must have an assistant. So that is settled. I 
come. I assure you I will not be a nuisance. As for 
sex, that won’t be perceptible.” 

She nodded, and began to move away towards the 
cabin. Paul began to protest. 

“Look here, Jennifer. I can’t possibly allow this. 
If anybody runs his neck into it, it’d better be me.” 

86 



My Lady Devil 


^^Don’t be an ass, Paul,” Jennifer said crisply. 
^^You stay. Therein be work for you here!” 

She swung along the deck. Without further argu¬ 
ment Martin Sondes moved towards the mate. 

Lilias said ironically: 

^^So you are greedy of danger, Martin Sondes?” 

‘^Not greedy,” he said. ^^It has to be faced.” 

am not meaning that danger.” She smiled at 
him. ^^Not physical danger, not danger from the 
dagos. But a danger from—shall we say a pretty 
thing in your own boat? 

He stopped and looked at her sternly. 

‘^Do you ever come out into the open with your 
attacks, Miss Seyler?” he asked sternly. 

^^Never,” she laughed softly, “unless it makes life 
more amusing . . . and that reminds me, were you 
by any chance in Tampica in the May of 1919?” 

“What is behind that?” he asked, surprised. 

“Is it a question you don^t want to answer?” 

“The answer is, I was in Tampica in the May of 
that year. Your reason for asking?” 

“Does a woman ever give her reason? And at San 
Illara, did you happen to be at San Illara in the No¬ 
vember of the same year?” 

Martin Sondes was suddenly frowning, eyes bent 
closely on her. 

“ITl answer that when you tell me your reason 
for asking,” he said curtly. 

“You have answered,” she laughed in his face. 
“You were there. Can you deny it?” 

87 



The Brute 


need to deny the truth,” he said, his face hard. 
“Idl have an explanation, please.” 

^Terhaps,” she jeered at him, ^^but not yet.” 

For a moment her rich, seductive face mocked him, 
then she was gone, laughing softly. And she left 
him thrilled with elation. She was already feeling 
sure that that intuition of hers had been right. 



CHAPTER XI 

‘^ALL THINGS BETEAY THEE^^ 


J ENNIFER had spoken the truth when she had 
told Martin Sondes that there would be very 
little of her sex perceptible on their expedition. 
As they crouched together under the dense bush of 
aninga that edged the river, he realized that the figure 
beside him might have been taken anywhere for that 
of a slim, strong boy, 

Jennifer was wearing a shirt of dun-colored tropic 
drill, riding breeches of the same material and knee 
boots. The big, soft straw hat confining her hair had 
completed the transformation. She was a boy, and, 
as he had seen her on deck with an automatic pistol 
against her slim thigh, a very gallant and swashbuck¬ 
ling boy into the bargain. 

And yet she was not a boy, never would be a boy. 
Something came out from her to him that was deci¬ 
sively, deliciously feminine. Her very nearness quick¬ 
ened him. He was touched and stirred in a way he 
had never known before. It was something that 
made this adventure taken together finer, more thrill¬ 
ing and at the same time more desperate than any ad¬ 
venture he had ever undertaken. There was wonder 
in their doing it together and alone, a magnificent 
comradeship that seemed to swing them to heights 
of reliance and assurance in each other. An affinity 
89 


The Brute 


had come to them which told them, without words, 
how completely they could trust each other. 

They had slipped from the Evelyn Hope under 
the cover of darkness, and Martin had paddled their 
boat stealthily out into the main river. There was a 
moon. They could see the band of silver it set upon 
the tree tops, but down at the bottom of this canyon 
of trees there was no light, though, through tree 
trunks, they saw the gleam of fireflies, and the ghost- 
fires of dead trees crumbling in phosphorescent rot. 

Behind them they knew that the mate had a warp 
out from the bow of the schooner, and was ready to 
swing her nose to the river and out to sea at Martin 
Sondes’s signal. The crew was safely locked in the 
fo’c’sle, and Bevis, Paul, and the white hands stood 
on guard. 

Their only danger was that the thieves on Donna 
Diaha^ in their eagerness to get the money on the 
Evelyn Hope, might begin their attack sooner than 
Sondes expected. Creeping silently into the main 
river under the shadow of the bushes, they soon saw 
that that fear need not affect them. Martin touched 
the girl’s slim arm. Looking across the river she saw 
two red sparks hanging above the water. 

He was on his knee beside her, his mouth very close 
to hers. He whispered: 

^‘Dagos all over—smoking as dagoish as you please 
on their watch. Helpful to us. Use that club I gave 
you if we get close. Hit at the head. Imagine you’re 
^smashing’ your opponent at tennis. No noise.” 

He was back again on his thwart. He pulled their 
90 




“All Things Betray Thee” 


boat deep into tbe river weed, so that they were 
screened by the leaves. Then he bent, mouth close 
to the surface of the water—for that is the way to 
make the voice carry—and called softly, clearly, in 
perfect Portuguese: 

^‘Comrades! Comrades 

Both red sparks vanished immediately. Martin 
called again: 

^^DonT shoot, senhors. We are friends. Very good 
friends! We have escaped from the ship of the Devil 
Sondes.’^ 

A voice came whispering over the waters: 

^^The devil you have! Where are you? What in 
the name of all the saints do you want?^’ 

^We are across the river, almost opposite you,” 
Martin called back. ^‘Do not make too much noise, 
friends, the Devil Martino has ears like a telephone. 
We have news, and it is of immediate importance.” 

think you lie!” came the voice. think we 
shoot into you!” 

^^As you will; it is in Heaven’s hands,” said Mar¬ 
tin, with the resignation of the Latin. ^^But I think 
Cipriano Bravo will do more than shoot you when he 
learns what you have done.” 

^^Peste!” came the voice, ^Wou have something for 
Cipriano?” 

^^We wish to get to the Donna Diaha without a 
moment’s delay,” said Martin—quite truthfully. 

^‘And you swear you are enemies of Devil Martino?” 

^Tf you had been locked in his burning fo’c’sle you 
would understand our peculiar love for him,” Martin 

91 



The Brute 


called back. ^^The others are locked in the fo’c’sle 
now. Only two of us have escaped. Look, I will 
show a light—you can shoot us if you will, but that 
will alarm the Devil Martino, and it will prevent 
Cipriano getting his news. For both things he will 
not thank you.’’ 

He lit a match, shielding it with his hands. 

There was a minute of terrible silence in which 
Jennifer waited in agony for the shots. Then, quite 
suddenly, there was a boat creeping like a great 
beetle across the waters. Jennifer trembled, per¬ 
haps with excitement, perhaps a little with fear. 
Martin Sondes seemed to know it. His hand caught 
her arm, pressed it with a strong, firm, comradely 
grip. She was confident at once. 

The boat came very close, Martin directing it with 
whispers. It stopped. A crafty voice said: 

‘‘We are friends, then, therefore you will throw 
your sheathed knives into the boat, comrades.” 

Jennifer gasped and went cold. They were caught! 
She had no knife! But she had reckoned without 
Sondes. He knew his Latin-America too well to be 
caught thus. A pause, then a knife in its sheath 
lobbed out towards the boat, into it. 

“Good!” said a man in a relieved voice. 

“Another knife seemed to swing towards the boat, 
one of the men snatched at it, but it rapped against 
the side and slid with the splash of a water rat into 
the river. Martin began to swear by the body of his 
favourite saint at the loss of his precious knife. But 
the thing he had most carefully thrown into the river 
92 



“All Things Betray Thee” 


was not Ms knife, but Ms loaded club. He bad sacri¬ 
ficed that because he knew the men in the boat would 
demand two knives, and he had only one. He prayed 
that those men would be satisfied with a splash. 

They were. They began pulling in to the bushes 
with silent strokes. They were relieved, confident, 
for when you have a dago’s knife you have him dis¬ 
armed. The boat came up to the bushes, and Martin, 
touching Jennifer, pushed through the leaves towards 
it. He scrambled down into the boat between the 
two men, his back turned so unguardedly to the 
rower that that fellow thought the whole affair must 
be quite innocent. 

He still thought it innocent when Martin, stagger¬ 
ing clumsily, back-heeled him on the instep. He 
cried out impatiently. Martin’s elbow jarred his 
mouth. He was knocked backwards into the boat. 

^^Look out, you clumsy son of a dog!” snapped the 
steersman; and rose in his seat. ^^You will upset 
the boat!” 

As he rose Jennifer’s club swept down upon his 
head. He went out without a cry. 

And Martin was on top of the man he had knocked 
over. His hands were at the man’s throat. 

^TOrt of dirt!” he snarled. ^^Utter as much as a 
whimper, and I break you in my hands! I am Martin 
Sondes—Devil Martin.” 

The man gasped and lay deadly still. Martin 
Sondes was not a man to fool with, as all the coast 
knew. Martin twisted him on his face, stripped his 

93 



The Brute 


weapons from him, began to bind him. Jennifer leaned 
over and whispered. 

^^Want any help, Martin? My man is knocked 
out!” 

^^No help!’^ he whispered back; and ^‘Well done— 
Jennifer 

Very quickly they pinioned and gagged the two 
men, and left them and their boat so fixed to the river 
bank that they would be seen in daylight—^but not 
before. 

This done they slipped back down stream for a 
moment until they saw the lights of the Evelyn Hope 
abeam. Martin fiashed a signal from an electric 
torch, and was answered from the deck, and they 
rowed quietly upstream once more until they came 
opposite the creek in which the Donna Diaha lay. 

Their great anxiety all the time was that the at¬ 
tackers from the dago vessel should come down on 
them before they were ready, or before the Evelyn 
Hope had escaped to sea. As it proved, there was no 
need for this fear. They waited an hour in the deadly 
silence of the river before two boats came out from 
the Donna Diaha and with swift, muffled strokes 
shot down towards the creek from which the schooner 
must have long ago escaped. 

^We’re in luck,’’ Martin whispered, breaking the 
long silence. ^^They have divided into two parties. 
Half in those boats, half going through the bush to 
attack the schooner from the land and distract at¬ 
tention while the boats slip up to her.” 

^^How do you know they went through the bush?” 

94 



"‘All Things Betray Thee” 


heard them a few minutes ago. You didn^t—? 
Well, you haven’t tracker’s ears yet. I must say they 
did it quietly enough. We’re in for it now. Do 
you feel all right?” 

^^Quite all right and I believe—I believe I’m enjoy¬ 
ing it, Martin,” she said, with the whisper of a laugh. 

‘^1 believe you are,” he laughed back. ^^And you 
would, Jennifer.” 

Skirting inside shadows they slid into the creek and 
under the counter of the dark-hulled Donna Diaha, 
The dago is not a good sentinel, and he was, at this 
moment, too sure of the situation to be careful. They 
heard two men speaking on the fo’c’sle head, their 
voices easy and contented. Lights showed in the 
stern cabin; standing up in the boat and peering 
through the port. Sondes saw Pascobas sitting under 
a smoky lamp, drinking, i^ot for the fat tug-master 
the glories of a fight! 

Gently, moving like a ghost, the boat slid along the 
ship’s side. Martin and Jennifer heard the pad of 
naked feet on the deck. They stopped, their hearts 
throbbing so that they felt the beat of them must be 
heard. The man had paused at the rail, listening. A 
moment, an eternity passed. He tossed a handful of 
fruit pips over the side, so close that some fell on to 
Jennifer’s knees. Then the padding feet went for¬ 
ward, and the voice of the walker rose, talking to the 
men on the fo’c’sle head: 

‘‘Has it not begun?” 

A lazy voice answered him: 

“No sound yet, but it must be soon now-” 

95 




The Brute 


The third man expressed a pious hope that the 
ladies of the Evelyn Hope would be spared to grace 
the Donna Diaha with their presence. His comments 
made the girl shudder. 

Martin’s hand closed on Jennifer’s at once. He 
seemed to respond instinctively to her need of reas¬ 
surance. A moment they listened to the three men 
lazily talking, then with a pressure he brought her 
to her feet, guided her hand to the chains, indicated 
with a touch that she must be ready with her pistol, 
and like a cat went up and over the side. 

She seemed to feel every step, every movement Mar¬ 
tin Sondes took upon that terrible ship. She knew 
that even his cunning and cleverness were at the 
mercy of chance. If by accident a man saw him 
there would come the flash of a throwing knife or the 
spit of a pistol and Martin would be dead. 

And she did not want him to die. It was not fear for 
herself that made her feel as she did. She did not 
think of herself and what would happen to her alone 
on that ghastly jungle river and at the mercy of these 
diabolical men. She thought only of him and the 
risk he was running. She did not want him to die; 
her heart was crying out against the thought. 

She held on to the chains with one hand, steadying 
the boat. Her other hand gripped tight on the butt 
of her pistol and her thoughts followed him step 
by step. 

Now Sondes must be across the deck. He was at 
the engine room. He was feeling his way into it; no 
outcry so far. The engine was not guarded; he had 

96 



‘"All Things Betray Thee” 


not been seen. Now be was on his knees by the 
engine, feeling for the place which he had already 
chosen in his mind. The men talked calmly. The dog 
monkeys barked and barked without ceasing, and 
somewhere across the water a body slid with a secret, 
oily slither into the creek; a watersnake, maybe; an 
alligator who smelt her, perhaps. But that did not 
matter; the deck was silent; Martin had not been 
discovered. 

Now he must have placed the bomb he had brought 
with him in the heart of that engine. In a second he 
would have drawn the pin, and come back. He was 
nearly finished, nearly safe- 

Then a sudden singing in the night. The voice of 
Pascobas raised in a sodden love-song, and steadily 
drawing nearer, nearer. The tug-skipper, tired of 
his lonely tippling, was coming on deck. 

She heard him call brazenly along the deck to the 
men forward, demanding: 

^Ts it not time for our little festa down the river? 
Have you not heard the noise of the revelry?’’ 

The men called back, moving towards Pascobas. 
But still there was no alarm. Everything was all 
right. 

‘Tt must begin any minute,” said a man’s voice 
calmly. 

He saw nothing. Nobody saw anything. It was 
all right if- 

^^Who are you, there?” Pascobas suddenly roared 
like a bull. ''What is that man doing by the galley? 
What is your name?” 


97 





The Brute 


^^Joao, Captain/’ came Sondes’s voice; and Jen¬ 
nifer could hear it was close. 

^‘Son of a pig, you are no Joao,” shouted Pascobas. 
^^Vasco! Daurte! That man there. Stop him!” 

There were shouts, and the rush of feet. Over Jen- 
nifer’s very head two men came together in a heavy 
impact. She heard a man scream: ^^Martino 

Diabo-” And then Martin the Devil must have 

struck. There was the crisp impact of fist on jaw, 
the crash of a body on the deck. 

^^Get him,” roared Pascobas. ‘^Your knife, fool.” 

Something sped hissing, gleaming over Jennifer’s 
head. It swung in a perfect arc until it dived with 
scarcely a splash into the creek. That was a throw¬ 
ing knife. It had missed Martin, but it told her he 
was too far along the deck. She called out in her 
clear voice: 

^^Martin! Martin! Here!” 

Pascobas bellowed: 

^‘Attacked! They are at us in boats.” 

He was so surprised that he forgot to be frightened. 
He bounced to the rail, and Jennifer caught a glimpse 
of his body. 

On the deck came the whip-snap of a pistol, and 
another, both away from her; then, over her, the 
answering crack of Martin’s weapon and a scream in 
answer. Then the figure of Sondes bulked large 
above her. 

But that she saw only instinctively. Her eye was 
on Pascobas. She saw him reach for his gun with a 
fat, quick gesture; saw it jerk out and up. Through 

98 




'"All Things Betray Thee' 


what felt an agony of hours she heard herself saying, 
^^He’s going to shoot Martin.’’ Hours, it seemed, 
before that pistol began to come down over its mark. 
But it was in reality a flash of instants only, before 
the flst dropped and the shot came; her pistol was 
speaking. Some cool instinct made her level and 
fire, and there was Pascobas staggering out of sight, 
one fat hand clasped to ribs, and Martin, laughing 
quietly, was in the boat and pushing off. 

Martin gave the boat a burst of the motor, and they 
shot skimming into the shadow of the jungle. He 
shut off, and they swept forward in silence. Two 
pistols raced through full clips from behind, and they 
heard the bullets rattling and snapping amid the 
leaves and branches. A mad tumult had burst out 
on the Donna Diaha. 

^Will they follow, Martin?” cried Jennifer. 

She was sitting in the stern sheets with him; her 
hand was tight in his, and she was glad, exultantly, 
almost madly full of joy. 

“No,” he cried. “They’ll funk it. Also they’ll 
have plenty more to attend to. Look!” 

What was it she knew first—flame or sound? Per¬ 
haps both came at once. Against the jet black of the 
jungle a fat balloon of blinding flame suddenly leaped 
upward from the very heart of the dago ship, and 
with it, part of it, an appalling crash. Jennifer 
saw smoke, confusion, more flame, and then was aware 
that their engine was running hard and that they 
had gone tearing on a terrific curve into the main 
stream. 


99 



The Brute 


At once the Donna Dialta was blotted out. At 
once Martin shut off the telltale motor. They sped 
on their own impetus with the pull of the tide drawing 
them through the shadows towards the sea. 

^^That was the motor going up, Jennifer,’’ he said 
to her. ^^That puts the Donna Diaha out of business, 
anyhow.” 

^^And the men of the Donna Diaha, Martin?” asked 
the girl. 

“Here they are! Listen to them!” 

Two boats were coming pounding up the river. 
The men in them, straining at the oars, were also 
shouting wildly and excitedly. Jennifer could even 
hear those who had gone through the jungle shouting 
and firing. 

“Keeping up their courage,” Martin said. “That 
big bang gave them a shock, especially after they 
found the Evelyn Hope gone.” 

The boats came by them, thrashing and churning 
up the water. In the bows men crouched with pistols 
ready for instant battle. But they were looking 
ahead, and in any case they could not pierce the 
shadows into which Martin had drawn the boat. 

He watched them by, watched them round a bend. 
Then he opened out and took the centre of the river. 

They heard the shouting stop behind them, then 
break out in a wild renewal. 

“They’ve heard us,” Martin said. “They may come 
after us. But they won’t catch us now—and they 
won’t risk coming out to sea.” 

That was true enough. The boats did turn and 
100 



“All Things Betray Thee” 


come thrashing after, even one or two shots followed 
them, but they were not caught. Through the dead 
walls of jungle they sped, and out into the thrust 
and kick of the open sea. 

In the moonlight out to sea they saw the Evelyn 
Hope riding; a thing of grace, exquisite and proud 
under the silvering of the moon. 

^^She’s a lovely thing,’’ said Jennifer, a laugh in 
her throat. “But I’m beginning to love—everything.” 

“I believe you loved even that fight, Jennifer,” 
Sondes remarked. 

“I know I did!” she cried. “I felt a positive primi¬ 
tive joy.” 

“Beware,” he laughed. “You’re in danger of be¬ 
coming an impossible brute.” 

“What a little fool I have been!” she said. “But 
I am learning—I’m learning how not to be an im¬ 
possible superior person.” 



CHAPTER XII 


JUNGLE DARKNESS 

T hey were elated and happy when they reached 
the side of the schooner and Martin caught the 
rope the mate threw down to them. It seemed 
to both of them that all misunderstanding between 
them had been swept away. They were in complete 
accord. Indeed they had gone beyond that and had 
reached a state of satisfaction in each other that 
touched the supreme point of happiness. The world 
was a fine old place after all, everyone was friendly 
and staunch in it, if one could only get to know them 
properly. 

Their condition was a dangerous one, they ought 
to have been warned by the swiftness and complete¬ 
ness of their happiness that it was far too good to be 
true, and that when the high gods make one drunk 
with such heady emotions they have to be paid for in 
suffering. The gods, indeed, had for the moment 
made them deliciously mad, but the gods had also pro¬ 
vided the bitter antidote to that madness in the per¬ 
son of Lilias Seyler. 

Lilias bitter, angry and half in love with Martin 
Sondes, watched the tenderness with which Martin 
handed Jennifer up the side with a spirit that rankled. 
All that was wicked in her was uppermost. She 
could have struck down the pair, killed them will- 
102 


Jungle Darkness 


ingly. And if she did not do that it was not because 
she feared the consequences, but because she felt she 
could deal a more painful hurt. 

She was certain she had made a discovery. She 
was certain she could hurt. And she meant to hurt 
—not so much Jennifer, as this big brute of a man 
who had scorned her. 

She stood by the little crowd listening to their joy¬ 
ous exclamations as Jennifer and Martin told how the 
Donna Diaha had been put out of action, how their 
pursuers had been rendered helpless for many days. 
She heard Bevis cry: ^^But this is splendid. We’ve 
thrown them and their threat off. It is straight 
ahead and a clear road now.” 

That was her cue. She struck. She said in her 
slow, clear, mocking voice: ^Tt is glorious. Straight 
ahead for Fogasta and the rescue of Kalph Felton. 
We’re sure of success now.” 

She said the name, Ealph Felton, deliberately, but 
it passed with her companions. They were too full 
of joy to notice the slip. And she did not bother 
about them. She was watching Martin Sondes to 
see if that name hit—and with a little thrill of joy 
she saw that it did. 

He stiffened. His face was fo.r an instant aston¬ 
ished and then it became ugly. He shot a look at 
Jennifer that was both hurt and angry. Then his 
jaw clenched, and with a gigantic effort he pulled 
himself together. 

But Lilias had seen, and she laughed within her¬ 
self. So her intuitions had been right. That curious 
103 



The Brute 


parallel of man-hunting was not a parallel after all, 
but the same hunt with a difference. Certainly with 
a difference. Martin Sondes was hunting and har¬ 
rying a wretch who had done evil things—and that 
man was Ealph Felton. Jennifer Daun was after a 
a man who had hunted and harried Ealph Felton— 
and that man must be Martin Sondes. After all 
she had been almost certain of that before Martin 
had given himself away at her utterance of Ealph’s 
name. This hunting business had been too coinci¬ 
dental, and then she had already proved the matter 
by asking Martin Sondes about Tampica and San 
Illara. She knew well those critical dates in Ealph 
Felton^s encounters with the man who hunted him 
had been at just those times and places—Jennifer 
had let her read Ealph^s letters. Also she knew 
that whatever Jennifer thought of him, Ealph had 
the reputation of being rather a bad-hat. Martin 
Sondes had been on the spot at those dates, so there 
was no doubt at all that he was the man who hunted 
Ealph. No doubt either that he was the man Jenni¬ 
fer had sworn to hunt for the sake of Ealph. Lilias 
laughed at the certainty of it. 

She laughed when Martin Sondes cut her off from 
the group descending to the saloon, drew her aside 
with a grip on her arm that was painful. 

^^You said Ealph Felton,” he whispered harshly. 

^^Did I?” she cried in pretended alarm. ^^Surely I 
didn’t!” 

^^Don’t lie. It was Ealph Felton. Is that Eonald 
Buckingham’s real name?^’ 

104 



Jungle Darkness 


!” she breathed. shouldn't have said it. . . . 
In the excitement it slipped out. You mustn’t tell, 
Captain, you mustn’t. ...” 

^^Is that man’s name Ealph Felton?” his voice was 
ruthless. 

^^You know I can’t tell you,” she said. ^^I’ve prom¬ 
ised. We know him as Eonald Buckingham. That 
was the name he took after some trouble—at San 
Illara. You mustn’t take advantage of my slip, Cap¬ 
tain.” 

^Tt is Ealph Felton,” he said hoarsely. ^^By God 
—that fellow!” 

haven’t told you,” she breathed. 

^Wou’ve told me,” he said grimly. 

^^And if—if I have, what does it mean to you?” 
she said softly. 

He stared at her for a full minute, his face like 
granite, his eyes glittering with a cold fire. Then he 
put her arm away from him as though it stung him. 

^^Thank God, the devil isn’t a woman,” he said 
thickly, ^There’d be no hope for the world then.” 

He turned and went forward into the night. 



CHAPTER XIII 


TRICKERY 

A ll night long Martin Sondes tramped the deck. 
Bevis Probyn below heard him in moments of 
wakefulness and wondered what there was to 
worry him now that all was smooth sailing. Paul 
Crlen, who had recognized the intimacy, the cama¬ 
raderie of Jennifer and Martin as they came aboard 
and was a little miserable and wakeful in conse¬ 
quence, cursed him for a noisy, thoughtless brute. 
Jennifer sleeping contentedly with dreams rather 
delicious did not hear those savage, steady footfalls. 
But Lilias heard and smiled and was satisfied. 

She knew that Martin Sondes was walking the deck 
in a fury, and she was right. He was striding the 
deck in a passion of unreasoning rage. 

He had been tricked. They had tricked him —she 
had fooled him. He almost hated Jennifer in his 
swing-back from sheer happiness that had gone before 
Lilias’s revelation. He concentrated his anger on 
her. 

She had fooled him, played with him, tricked him. 
... Of course she had. Why else had she hidden 
that fellow’s name? What other reason was there 
for passing Ralph Felton off as Ronald Buckingham? 
She knew. If she didn’t know definitely that Ralph 
106 


Trickery 


Felton was the man he had sworn to punish, she 
knew at least that Kalph Felton was a creature no de¬ 
cent man would lift a hand to save. 

Of course she knew. Kaging and looking back on 
Ralph Felton’s infamies, he told himself that it was 
impossible for her to be ignorant. 

That cur—merely thinking of him made his gorge 
rise. Ralph Felton was unmitigated devil, there 
wasn’t a clean, straight, manly fibre in his whole 
make-up. 

That piece of blackguardism among the hospitable 
Indians—that was the man all through. Only there 
were things worse than that in the career of this 
drunkard, debauche and thief ... a mean, slimy 
thief who would steal anything from a handful of 
milreis to a woman’s honour. 

He was a born wrong-’un. Why, their very first 
encounter had proved that! 

Martin had got Felton out of a dago row—the old 
hand helping the tenderfoot fresh from home. It 
had been an ignoble business, a mean affair, but 
greenhorns weren’t always wise. Martin had plucked 
him out of the scrape. He recalled how he had in¬ 
stinctively disliked Felton because of the sloppiness 
of his gratitude, too fulsome, too servile by far. Still, 
he had made allowances for the rawness of the boy. 
He had thought that, with a chance to make good, he 
would stiffen up. 

He had taken him under his own wing, given him 
the shore-end of his own trading work at Belem. He 
had done more than that. He had seen him com- 
107 



The Brute 


fortablj housed in the home of some particular 
friends, the Eloendros. 

The Eloendros, he had felt, would do the boy 
good. They were fine people, courtly, noble-minded, 
generous, hospitable. Ealph Eelton had every chance 
of proving the stuff in him in his office and with the 
Eloendros. And yet when Martin returned to Belem 
after a single long trip there was his own office safe 
rifled even down to the stamp box, while the Eloen¬ 
dros had been stripped of everything of portable 
value, and worse—Juanita Eloendros, the soft and 
trusting Juanita who was no more than a child, was 
weeping her eyes out in privacy, and with good rea¬ 
son. And Ealph Felton, the author of all this vile¬ 
ness, had vanished. 

That was the man. That was how he responded 
to trust and friendship—and love. And that wasnT 
the only index to his character either. There were 
a dozen more villainies, all of the same stamp. 

At Tampica he had used Martin’s name to ingrati¬ 
ate himself with Martin’s friends. He had deliber¬ 
ately selected the richest and ripest of those friends 
for his ugly plans. Mesurar, that splendid old 
hidalgo, had accepted him with open hands, made 
him mayordomo. Felton had jumped at such an 
opportunity for stripping an unsuspecting man of his 
valuables. There had also been Mesurar’s niece. 
How was it such a cur had such a beastly power over 
women? Luckily Martin, hot on his scent, had sailed 
into Tampica before the brute was ready for his com¬ 
plete haul. He had bolted from Tampica at the sight 
108 



Trickery 


of the Evelyn Hope’s topsails, and with him had gone 
the niece, for her jewels were extensive and rich. 

What woe would not have descended upon the Mes- 
urars if Martin had not come to Tampica deliberately 
to hunt that beast down! As it was Ealph Felton 
had got away with the jewels. He was not the man 
to toss them aside into a filthy Indian village or dago 
slum, as he would have tossed the girl if the pursuit 
had not been too hot for him. The girl was saved, 
but—well, there was a wound in a fine friendship with 
the Mesurars after that. 

Felton, naturally, cared not a rap about that side. 
He was utterly devoid of decency. There was not a 
spark of any warming virtue in him. He was a snake 
who thought only of his own gratifications, and would 
wriggle through any slime to satisfy them. Well, the 
only way to deal with a snake was to go after it. 

Martin had done that ceaselessly, consistently. He 
had made a point of following any trail that pointed 
toward Ealph Felton. He had scared him out of 
many places. He had arrived in time to disturb many 
villainies. He had kept the fellow on the run, any¬ 
how, if the brute had been too slippery to allow him¬ 
self to be caught. . . . That was what the precious 
scoundrel had meant when he had written to Jen¬ 
nifer Daun to say that he could never settle in one 
place to make his fortune for the vengeful man who 
had hounded him forever on. . . . The half-lies of 
a beast, how true they were when one knew. He had 
hounded the cur, had meant to get him. . . 

And it was true that Ealph Felton was in danger 
109 



The Brute 


of death at Martin’s hands. . . . Very true. At 
San Illara in November of 1919, that nearly hap¬ 
pened. 

He had heard of Ralph’s being there and had come 
up with him by an overland march. He had cor¬ 
nered the fellow all right then. In a filthy little 
thieves’ posada they had fought it out. Felton had 
tried to shoot him, but he had meant to finish it with 
bare hands. He had disarmed the chap. He had 
fought him. He had mauled Felton badly. The fel¬ 
low had pretended to collapse—the trick of a fox. 
When Martin had turned his back, given orders that 
the police were to be called, Felton was up quickly 
enough, and the knife he had snatched went into 
Martin’s back with plenty of power. He had meant 
to kill. It was a miracle that he had not succeeded. 
He had put Martin on the sick list for months, and 
had escaped. ... To Fogasta, no doubt, where, 
under the name of Ronald Buckingham, he had per¬ 
petrated what other villainies! 

Was that a lie too? Another part of the trick to 
fool him? Was that story of his imprisonment in 
Fogasta as false as the rest of Ralph Felton’s life? 
Dawn found him stamping back and forth, asking 
that question again and again. Had he been tricked 
into pledging himself to rescue Ralph Felton from 
the consequences of another infamy? 

He failed to notice the glory of the tropic dawn, 
failed to see Jennifer standing by the rail drinking 
in the blue and gold, the hashing aquamarine and 
topaz of sky and sea. Failed to see her standing 
110 



Trickery 


there slim, resilient, radiant in her happiness until 
she spoke to him, wished him good morning in the 
happy tones with which she had wished him good 
night. 

The sound of her voice was like a blow. He halted 
in his tracks—stared. His clouded and furious eyes 
took in the loveliness of her radiant morning air. 
The sense of sheer happiness that transfigured even 
her beauty was like a knife stab. He hated her— 
hated her. With a look that made her gasp he swung 
on his heel, and left her standing there shocked and 
bewildered. 

He did not join them at breakfast. He avoided 
them all when he came on deck for a brief spell later. 
At lunch they learnt that he was having his meals in 
his cabin. Jennifer, hurt, bewildered, but not able 
to believe that the man of last night could have 
changed so completely into the man he seemed to be 
today, twitted him on this, on his wish to avoid 
them. 

do as I choose. Miss Haun,’^ he said harshly, turn¬ 
ing from her. 

Miss Daun! And last night she had been Jennifer. 

She said chilled, proud, hurt: “Are you saying that 
our company is distasteful to you, Mr. Sondes?” 

“I am saying that,” he said, and he left Jennifer 
gasping, shocked to the verge of tears, staring after 
him, and Paul Glen, leaning on the rail by her side, 
stiffening and saying furiously: “He is an utter cad, 
that fellow. There’s no curing him.” 

Lilias smiled in her slow way. How well Martin 
111 



The Brute 


Sondes had reacted to her plan, and how bewildered 
the others were. Her instinct for antagonism was 
being satisfied. . . . And how she wanted to hurt 
that man, too. She said in her mocking voice: ^^You 
can’t cure a natural instinct, Paul; our cave man is 
merely reverting to his habitual brutality.” 

^^But—last night!” Jennifer almost wailed. 

^^He was charming and almost human,” sneered 
Lilias. ^^But in the morning comes wisdom. He is 
obviously furious with himself for having allowed a 
romantic circumstance and a little moonlight to 
weaken him.” 

‘^But that’s ridiculous,” cried Jennifer. 

^^My dear, isn’t that type usually ridiculous? That 
sort of Samson thinks every woman a Delilah.” 

^^You’re talking nonsense,” exclaimed Jennifer, 
feeling that, if Lilias was right, her own curiously in¬ 
timate reading of the fineness of Martin’s character 
was wrong—horribly wrong. 

^^You know best, my dear,” smiled Lilias. ^ Jt may, 
after all, merely be his style of love-making. Harsh¬ 
ness after tenderness is considered irresistible by his 
type.” 

^^You’re also disgusting,” said Jennifer. 

^Ts there any other explanation for the violent 
change in him?” asked Lilias, enjoying the thrill of 
knowing that she alone could explain that change. 
Enjoying, too, the mystification of Jennifer who left 
her angrily. And Paul, who didn’t feel mystified at 
all, was just as amusing. 

^‘No need for any sort of explanation,” he said 
112 



Trickery 


pompously. “The fellow is just a natural bounder. 
But lie’ll have to look out. He’s going just a bit too 
far.” 

Lilias did not miss her chance. 

agree with you, Paul,” she said, with soft seri¬ 
ousness. ‘^1 am really growing anxious, and I can’t 
tell you how grateful I am that we have you to fall 
back on.” 

shall not fail you, Lilias,” he said, ‘^though it 
is a beastly position, as I see it. We can’t really do 
without this fellow, and Bevis is more than half on 
his side. Still, we’re not going to stand much more 
of this sort of thing. If that chap can’t react to 
decent conduct, then I’ll have to teach him by the 
only method he understands—brute force.” 

Paul Glen stood frowning, his big fists clenched. 
He really did think he could do it, just as he really 
was outraged by what he thought was Martin Sondes’s 
brutality. A nice boy Paul, a nice, straight boy, but 
almost too easily misled. 

Curiously Martin Sondes himself was wondering at 
that moment whether he had been too easily misled by 
the barbed hints of a spiteful woman. 

That early marning meeting with Jennifer had had, 
after all, an effect on him. The picture of her, 
lovely, happy, candid-eyed, was ineffacable. Her 
clear, straightforward friendliness had been beyond 
artifices. She could not be plotting against him, 
tricking him. . . . She couldn’t know what Ralph 
Felton meant to him. 

He saw that decisively now as he stood in his cabin, 
113 



The Brute 


forearms resting along the port, and brooding eyes 
staring out to the mysterious tangle of jungle away 
over the sea. It was as though the sight of Jennifer 
had cleared away his passions, brought back his com¬ 
mon sense. 

A girl like that could not be underhanded, he felt 
in his heart. And admitting that much, his cleared 
mind told him that he had been a fool even to think 
it. Yes, a fool. Why, if she had known who he was, 
even guessed at it, would she be so stupid as to lead 
him straight to the man he had sworn to punish? Of 
course she did not know, logic and his knowledge of 
her fine nature told him so. 

What a fool he had been to swing off into blind rage. 
. . . But still, was it so foolish? 

After all why had she hidden the name? Why call 
him Eonald Buckingham when his name was Kalph 
Felton? A matter to make one go slow, not easily 
explainable. Did it mean that she felt that Kalph 
Felton wouldn’t be the type of man he would care to 
rescue? Did it mean that she knew the type of black¬ 
guard Felton was? It looked like it. What other 
explanation could there be? She might want to pro¬ 
tect Felton, keep the meaning of their expedition hid¬ 
den—^but surely not from him? Not from him, unless 
she feared to tell him. And if she feared to tell him 
that meant she did not know what a cur Felton was. 

But somehow he couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t 
see a girl like her behaving as she did if she knew the 
sort of monster Felton was. A girl like Jennifer 
would know shame, even if she was determined to 
114 



Trickery 


rescue the man, if she knew what sort of man Felton 
was. ... If she knew. No, she couldn’t know. 
She couldn’t bear to know, just as he couldn’t bear 
her to know. The thing was too horrible to think of, 
much too horrible. No man or woman would dare to 
tell her. It would be unspeakable—the truth, when 
told to a girl like Jennifer. . . . He would not dare 
to tell her himself, or allow any other man to give 
her as much as a hint. 

And yet, if she didn’t know, why fob him off with 
a false name? 

He couldn’t understand that. Perhaps she had 
heard hints. . . . But no, it couldn’t be that. If 
she had heard hints, soon she would have heard all. 
She knew nothing, he believed. The story she had 
told him about Buckingham was, as far as she knew, 
the full truth. . . . 

But even then why hide his real name? 

It was baffling. Baffling. He seemed only to ex¬ 
onerate Jennifer in order to convince himself that 
there must be something underhanded about her ac¬ 
tions. His mind still hung, indecisive, when the 
mate came to his cabin, thinking he was asleep, and 
spoke to him words that sent him back to the port to 
see what he had been looking at unseeing. A broad 
river was opening out before them. They had made 
the Paranie, the river that led to Fogasta. 

Fogasta , . . and his mind was yet undecided. 

He could not even decide when Jennifer, her voice 
reserved and her face pale, spoke to him. 

115 



The Brute 


mate tells me we shall reach Fogasta about 
midday tomorrow, Captain,’’ she said. 

^^That is so.” 

^^And we have not settled on a plan of action.” 

^^No,” he answered, ^^nothing is settled yet.” 

^^Then we must discuss things.” 

^^No,” he said, ^^not yet. I have to decide first.” 

He was speaking half to himself. The casualness 
of his tone angered the girl. 

^^Captain Sondes,” she cried, do not under¬ 
stand your new attitude. I think some explanation 
is necessary.” 

He stared down at her. She was very lovely, far 
too lovely. . . . And yet she had lied about Ralph 
Felton’s name. 

‘T’ll talk when I’ve decided what I shall do,” he 
said grimly. 

Anger fiamed out in her eyes. ^‘1 will not be treated 
in this way!” she cried. 

He shrugged his shoulders and moved off. Paul 
Glen, his eyes blazing, moved in front of him. 

^^Dammit, you’d better behave in a civil manner, 
understand? You’re going too far, my man,” he 
cried. 

^^And if I don’t?” said Martin, looking at him 
level-eyed. 

^^Then you’ll be taught how to,” snarled Paul. 

^T’ll remember it,” said Martin, and went along 
the deck. 



CHAPTER XIY 
HUNTER AND RESCUER 


J ENNIFER had lied about Felton^s real name. 
That meant she knew that Felton was a cur 
—or there was some other explanation. And 
only one person could give it to Martin in the present 
conditions of things—Lilias Seyler. 

He went straight to her after dinner, in the soft 
light of the evening. She saw him coming, drifted 
before him until she had put the deck-house effec¬ 
tively between them and the others. She meant to 
play with him, as she always played with men, but he 
was not the playing sort. 

He said curtly: want to speak with you. Miss 

Seyler.’’ 

^^And about what?” she asked with her slow, pro¬ 
voking smile. 

won’t make a comedy of it,” he said. “You 
know exactly what I mean.” 

“You are refreshingly direct,” she said, looking at 
him with half-veiled eyes. “Perhaps you’ll put the 
question direct now.” 

“I want the truth about this Ralph Felton busi¬ 
ness !” 

“As simple as that,” she mocked. “You come 
stamping up to me in your best quarter-deck manner 
117 


The Brute 


and insist that I should do no less than betray the 
confidence of my friends.” 

^We are past the opening moves,” he said, and she 
did not forgive him for it. “You have done that al¬ 
ready—deliberately.” 

“Deliberately?” her eyebrows went up. 

“No need for pretence.” 

“Every need,” she mocked. “In the world I come 
from diplomacy is the spice of existence. I am not 
going to risk my comforting friendships for an unfor¬ 
tunate slip.” 

“Very well, then, I must go to Miss Daun.” 

She laughed softly: “Captain Sondes, am I as 
stupid as all that?” 

“More diplomacy?” 

“Crude bluffing, merely. You try to frighten me 
with threats of Jennifer. . . . My dear man, if 
you thought it would answer, you would have gone to 
her first.” 

He stared at her fiercely. 

“Are you going to tell me?” 

“In confidence—perhaps. I rather like you. . . . 
We have something in common, Martin. In confi¬ 
dence, I . . .” 

“I don’t pledge anything.” 

“I do—^by telling you nothing.” 

“But I must know—don’t you see that?” 

“You shall, Martin—^in confidence.” 

“You have my word. Now, does Miss Daun know 
the sort of scoundrel this half-brother of hers is?” 

118 



Hunter and Rescuer 


^^Frankly, I don’t know exactly what sort of scoun¬ 
drel you mean.” 

^^An utter blackguard—the worst type.” 

^^She certainly doesn’t think him that’’ 

^^You mean she knows he is something of a bad lot?” 
don’t know,” she said softly. 

^^Then why hint?” 

^^Because I don’t know. I haven’t Jennifer’s con¬ 
fidence . . . but she did hide his real name, didn’t 
she?” 

Lilias planted that subtle little dart with what she 
thought delicate skill. And she saw she had made 
a mistake. The poverty of her attack had given her 
away. He saw at once that none of them knew, Jen¬ 
nifer did not know the true character of Ealph Fel¬ 
ton. ... If Jennifer had known, this woman would 
have done her best to expose her. She was willing to 
wound—but had no weapons. . . . She did not 
know. Jennifer did not know. That was definite, 
then. He had cleared that lovely girl of treachery, 
then. By so much was he free of his problem. 

Lilias saw by the lightening of his face that she 
had made a false step. Instead of entangling him 
deeper in a difficult problem, she had helped him out. 
She was chagrined, but she was not beaten. She had 
other shots in her locker. She fired one. 

^^So, after all, Ealph Felton is the man you have 
been hunting down.” 

don’t answer that,” he said grimly. 

^^No need,” she said. have some common sense, 
you know. And it is an engaging situation. He is 
119 



The Brute 


the man you are hunting to ruin, therefore you are 
also the man Jennifer has sworn to hunt, to ruin.’^ 

He stiffened, startled, and she laughed in his face, 
she cried, ^^so you didn’t look at that side? 
How extraordinary you simple and direct men are! 
You’ve been so occupied with your thoughts of ven¬ 
geance on Kalph Felton that you have no thought of 
the vengeance Jennifer has in store for you—^when 
she learns who you are.” 

‘^That means nothing,” he said, trying to keep his 
voice even, ‘‘for she does not realize the character of 
her brother.” 

“And does that mean anything either, my dear, 
blundering Martin?” 

“Why fence? A cur is a cur, and a decent 
girl. ...” 

“Doesn’t always believe in it in her half-brother. 
Do you think you could convince Jennifer that Ealph 
Felton is a ruffian, Martin?” 

Martin stared at her. He was mum for a moment 
—^well, she had rather cornered him. 

“There’s no getting away from the truth,” he said 
huskily. 

“That’s a fallacy,” she mocked. “Half the people 
in the world get away from the truth by refusing to 
believe it. Do you think Jennifer will readily ac¬ 
cept evil about her dear brother?” 

“She can’t fight against facts,” said Martin heavily. 

“Pah,” she scoffed, “you’re not even being truthful 
to yourself now. He’s her half-brother. He left her 
at an age when she adored him as an elder god. He 
120 



Hunter and Rescuer 


writes the most plausible and affectionate letters, and 
those letters have already told her his version of the 
truth. She is already convinced by them. Do you 
think you can shake her belief?^’ 

Martin could see the forces against him growing. 
He said lamely: ^^But the facts give his letters the 
lie.” 

^^Facts,” she scoffed. Whose facts? Who can 
tell her the facts?” 

could,” he said with hesitation, and she laughed 
outright. 

she said. ^Wou who already figure in this 
business as the scoundrel, as the mean, lying and un¬ 
scrupulous villain who is bent on ruining Ealph? . . . 
My dear Martin, you can’t be such a fool. You know 
that every word you say is labelled ^perjured’ even 
before you utter it. Your truth . . . why it will be 
your condemnation in her eyes.” 

He stood with hands clenched on the rail, face 
pale and bitter. 

^^She must believe me!” he persisted. 

^^Go to her now and tell—and see!” she whispered 
hotly. He did not move. Her eyes rested on the 
strength of his face and the pain in it. She put out 
her hand, rested it softly on his arm. 

^^But you can’t go to her and tell her, Martin,” she 
said softly. ^^It isn’t in you. You can’t shock her 
with foul things. You can’t desecrate her idol, 
blacken the character of one she loves—even if you 
would be believed. You can’t strike that blow in the 
121 



The Brute 


face. ... You are a strong, forceful, ruthless crea¬ 
ture, Martin, but you can^t do that” 

He stood rooted to the deck. He knew she was 
right. Yesterday he might have told Jennifer 
straight and scorned the consequence—today, no. 
He couldn’t strike that blow in the face. He couldn’t 
hurt Jennifer. More—more faintly, but all things 
helped his indecision—he couldn’t hurt himself in the 
eyes of Jennifer. What could he do? 

Lilias close to him, alluring, lovely, murmured: 
pretty problem, isn’t it, Martin? You have 
given your sacred word to rescue a man you would 
rather see rot in prison. You will rescue him. And, 
when you do it, he will expose you to Jennifer as the 
man who has hunted him to ruin—and she will loathe 
you forever. A pretty problem.” 

He looked into her eyes. 

‘What are you?” he asked. “A woman or a devil, 
that you should take pleasure in such a situation?” 

The grim strength of his face, the passion against 
her in it seemed to fire her with a defiance that was 
reckless. 

“The sort of devil a woman becomes when her love 
is treated with contempt, Martin,” she said fiercely, 
and he knew that she spoke true. 

He stood back from her. 

“I think we’d better end this talk.” 

“You don’t believe me,” she said thickly. “You 
don’t think I mean that—^love.” 

“Love,” he said stiffly. “You must not talk like 
that. Miss Seyler.” 


122 



Hunter and Rescuer 


have to/’ she whispered fiercely. ^^Can’t you 
see I’m truthful now^ Martin?” 

‘‘I don’t think you quite realize what you are say¬ 
ing,” he said. 

know,” she whispered. ^^It’s captured me. . . . 
Just now I didn’t know, but now—^yes. . . . Absurd. 
It’s absurd—^but it’s there.” 

She stood before him, arms suddenly flung out, her 
rich and superb figure proud in its line and beauty 
before him. 

^^Martin,” she breathed, ^^Martin. . . . Don’t you 
see? Am I not worth a dozen pretty milk-and-water 
misses? Martin, won’t you see?” 

‘Tlease, Miss Seyler,” he said quietly, “you are 
allowing excitement to run away with you.” 

“Let it run away with you” she breathed. He 
made to go; she held his arm. “The primitive sav¬ 
age deep in me calls to the primitive nature in you. 
. . . Let it answer. We’re affinities. We’re made 
for each other. Don’t you feel it? Don’t you thrill 
to it? Made for each other. . . . And I can fight 
like a primitive, too; fight with you, at your shoulder 
. . . but for you too. I’ll fight—^fight rather than 
let a pretty drawing-room chit capture you! Don’t 
you understand, Martin, it is the elemental woman in 
me calling to you—demanding you?” 

For a moment she clung to him, fiercely, savagely. 
She saw the rugged sternness of his face soften a little 
—but not weaken. He said with startling gentleness: 

“You do me too great an honour. Miss Seyler.” 

123 



The Brute 


Gently he tried to loosen her hold. Already she 
was knowing fury. 

^^Martin/^ she cried harshly, ^^do you realize what I 
am offering you?^’ 

^^Yes,’’ he answered quietly. ^‘1 am sorry. You 
do me too great an honour. You will see it yourself 
later.” 

Her passion was transformed into hate. She flung 
from him with such fury that she reeled across the 
taffrail. 

^^So that is it. . . . Not good enough. ... A 
low, coarse brute like. ...” 

Someone was coming towards them quickly, some 
one who had misread her fall across the rail. She 
saw it was Paul. She saw in Paul her chance of 
punishing this man who had repulsed her. She 
screamed out: ^Taul! Paul! This brute—protect 
me!” 

Paul came running, hands swinging. 

Jennifer and Bevis appeared, running, round the 
deck-house. Jennifer cried: ^Taul! Paul!” 

^^This cad,” raged Paul, ^flnsulted Lilias before my 
eyes.” 

He swung viciously at Martin. He struck to 
knock down. His left stabbed at the head, the right 
at the chin. Martin’s hands moved up with quick 
but casual certainty. The blows were blocked, 
picked off in the air. Martin took his man on the 
forearms, threw him back against the rail. The cool¬ 
ness of it, the sureness should have warned Paul. 
He was beyond warning. Jennifer called again, but 
124 



Hunter and Rescuer 


already he was in, both hands chopping to the body. 

He knew how to hit. Good training and the full 
impact of the body was behind those blows. The cur 
would wring when they landed. They did not land. 
Strong arms came down smothering the blows. A 
twist and Paul was locked in a clinch he could not 
break. And Martin Sondes was talking to him very 
calmly: You’re being a fool,” he said. ^^Stop all 
this. Clear out.” 

Paul with a mighty output of strength wrenched 
clear. 

^^Not before I’ve given you the biggest thrashing 
of your life,” he panted, and he drove at the cheek. 

Martin, with his guard down, took a glancing blow. 
He shook his head as though stung. His body 
crouched. His left lifted and stabbed. . . . Paul 
was on his back in the scuppers. 

Jennifer came forward quickly. 

^Taul! Captain Sondes! This must stop at once,” 
she cried. 

^‘Not now,” said Martin quietly. ^^He has a les¬ 
son to learn. It had better be now. He’s been spoil¬ 
ing for this.” 

Paul was on his feet. 

“Go away, Jennifer,” he cried, “I am going to settle 
with this brute once and for all.” 

He measured his man and went in. He was fight¬ 
ing with caution now. That digging, driving punch 
had taught him something. He’d have to pit science 
against that punch to beat this rough-hewn scalawag. 
Luckily he had science. He went in dancing quickly, 
125 



The Brute 


body poised ready to slip anything Martin sent across, 
right feinting. He did all the right things. The 
flash of the feint, the whiplash left that it masked, 
were masterly. Good work, neat work, PauPs train¬ 
ers would have applauded. . . . The head the left 
should have found was not there. A stanchion 
seemed to flick out of the blue to crash on his jaw. 
... He was again on his back in the scuppers. 

He rose to his feet. His head was foggy and whirl¬ 
ing. He could not believe that it was Sondes stand¬ 
ing there before him, four-square and calm as though 
nothing had happened to disturb a maiden medita¬ 
tion. Men did not maintain that attitude when a 
boxer of his gifts went into action. It made him 
angry. He saw red. He dived for the big man^s 
belt line, hurled in with flsts hammering to flght on 
the inside. He got inside. All the lower guard of 
his man was before him to jolt and jab with half- 
arm smashes as he pleased. His arms bunched to 
kick in. . . . 

He was on his back in the scuppers once more. 

Just a swing of Martin Sondes’s body, the quick, 
lilting movement as the feet shifted weight, then the 
punch had torn in. A seven-inch shift, no more— 
but every ounce of the captain’s two hundred pounds 
was packed into it, and it had been timed to a frac¬ 
tion. 

Paul Glen lay for more than the count of ten before 
climbing groggily to his feet. Martin Sondes waited 
in unflurried calm. Paul lurched forward feeling 
for clinch. Martin side-stepped out of distance. 

126 



Hunter and Rescuer 


Paul lashed his right to the man^s head, whipped his 
left across to find the jaw. Martin’s left touched the 
forearm, the blow was nullified. Martin’s head moved 
a fraction, the jaw did not accommodate the punch. 
Martin’s left hooked—^Paul was on his back in the 
scuppers. 

He remained there, staring with dazed eyes at 
Martin. The captain, grim and unperturbed, looked 
down at him. There was neither triumph nor malice 
in that glance, nor was there pity. 

^^You cur!” Paul growled through thickened lips. 
^^You low, cowardly cur!” 

^^Better say it on your feet,” said Martin. His right 
hand went out, Paul was yanked upright with one 
quick, effortless snatch. The power of that was the 
final touch of defeat. With knees shaking, and heart 
sick with pain and fear, Paul crouched against the 
rail. 

‘^Go on with your remarks,” said Martin in an 
inflexible voice. 

think that is enough. Captain Sondes,” said Jen¬ 
nifer shakily. ^^The man is beaten.” 

Martin ignored her. He was staring coldly at Paul, 
waiting, inviting the young man to speak. He gave 
him a full half minute, then: 

^Tt is the custom in these seas to break a man 
thoroughly when he acts as you acted just now, Glen. 
I’m ready to do it. I’m ready to give you a battering 
that will keep you in your bunk for a week, for you 
want your lesson. You have to learn that a man is 
master here by his own strength and right, and for 
127 



The Brute 


his own good—and yours. You understand me, I am 
willing to deal with you without mercy, and next 
time, if there should be a next time, I won’t hold my 
hand. Pretty manners and conventions will not save 
you. You understand? I am master here.” 

^‘Not to the extent of insulting women,” said Paul 
thickly, and Martin’s brows drew down, and he 
stepped forward. 

^^Go ahead,” cried Paul. ‘^Batter me stiff if you 
like, but as long as I have any manhood in me I shall 
do my best to stop the sort of thing you did to Miss 
Seyler just now.” 

It looked as though Martin would strike again. 
But even as his fist swung the meaning of Paul’s 
words seemed to penetrate. He stared surprise. 
Dropped his hands. Lilias, for all her anger at him, 
smiled. She knew her man. The mere suggestion 
that he had done anything to her was an insult, but 
she knew that so strong was the vein of chivalry in 
him that he would never excuse himself at her ex¬ 
pense. She was safe with him, he would not even 
correct Paul, for that might touch her. And she was 
right. The light died from Martin’s eyes. He said, 
simply: 

You’ll have to learn a good deal before you are 
effective then, Glen.” 

Lilias almost laughed. What fools these simple, 
chivalrous men were. Here was Martin Sondes sad¬ 
dling himself with further unpopularity simply be¬ 
cause he would not expose her. While men were so 
stupid, women like her would always triumph. . . . 

128 



Hunter and Rescuer 


But suddenly she stopped smiling. Jennifer was 
speaking. Jennifer was saying in her clear voice: 

“You are wrong, Paul. Captain Sondes did not 
insult Lilias.^’ 

“But—^but I heard—saw—she called,’^ he answered 
gaping. 

“Nevertheless, Captain Sondes did not insult her. 
You may take my word for that.’^ 

“But, Jennifer—really—” 

“I am telling you the truth.’^ Paul gazed be¬ 
wildered from Jennifer to Martin Sondes, and on to 
Lilias. She said mockingly: 

“I certainly called, Paul.” 

Jennifer's face became set and resolute. 

“Captain Sondes did not insult her, Paul. On the 
contrary he was treating her with the greatest cour¬ 
tesy,” she persisted evenly. 

“After all,” said Lilias, angry and maybe a little 
afraid, “perhaps I was in a better position to judge.” 

“I can judge, too,” said Jennifer coldly. “I heard. 
Bevis, here, heard.” 

Paul looked at Bevis, and Bevis nodded agree¬ 
ment. Lilias said furiously: “You heard only what 
you wanted to hear.” She was wondering how much 
the girl had overheard. 

“I can repeat what we heard,” said Jennifer with 
firmness. “It began with something about affinities 
—every word was clear after that. Shall I go on?” 

Lilias shrugged her shoulders. 

“One is always at a disadvantage with eavesdrop¬ 
pers,” she sneered. She walked to Paul, put her arm 
129 



The Brute 


about his shoulders to help him from the deck. She 
would make a good exit anyhow. ^^Come on, Paul/^ 
she said, ^‘we are in an unpopular minority.’^ 

Paul slipped gently from her arm, looked at her 
with understanding eyes. Then he turned to Martin 
Sondes. 

‘T’ve been a bit of a damned ass. Sondes/^ he said, 
apologize.^^ 

He went to his cabin alone. 



CHAPTER XV 
THE TANGLE 


M artin sondes spent the worst ten minutes 
of the voyage when Paul and Bevis and Lilias 
had left. 

Jennifer stayed with him. Jennifer would not let 
him go. Jennifer was determined to have things out. 
And as he watched her, beautiful, nymph-like before 
him, he knew that she could not have it out. He 
couldn’t tell her anything. Could he tell her the true 
character of Ralph Felton? No. Tell her who he 
himself was? No. Tell her that he could not go on 
with the voyage? No—that would force him to tell 
her the other untenable things. He could do nothing. 
His hands were hopelessly tied. 

She came to the point at once: 

^What is the trouble, Martin?” 

^‘What do you mean, Miss Daun?” was all he could 
say, and that was symptomatic of his condition. 
^That is part of it,” she said with a quiet smile, 
was Jennifer last night, and I am calling you, 
Martin.” 

Jennifer! Martin! That only made things a thou¬ 
sand times worse. He stood before her wondering 
what he should say. 

^^Do I have to demand plain speaking from you?” 
she smiled. ^Hs it Lilias?” 

131 


The Brute 


It wasn’t Lilias, not the real trouble. He might 
admit it was. . . . But no, that would lead to the 
reason, and the reason could not be given to her. But 
Lilias^—^Avhat had happened gave him his cue. He 
might slip out of his promise that way. 

‘^Call it the general friction that has existed from 
the first,” he said in as harsh a voice as he could. 
‘^That—^just now—^was the thing coming to a head. 
It was bound to happen. It has been an ill-advised 
companionship from the first. I ought to have seen 
that I wasn’t the man to fit in with you.” 

She stared, puzzled. 

^What do you mean me to understand by that?” 

^^Surely it is obvious. This sort of thing is doomed 
to go on happening while a man like me is in contact 
with people of your sort. There is no chance of har¬ 
mony between us.” 

She moved so that the light of the moon, which 
had risen, should reveal his face to her. 

^^Are you asking to be released from your contract?” 
she demanded amazed. 

think it would be best for all,” he said thickly. 

^^You’re not serious?” she gasped. 

Not serious, he could have laughed outright. 

was never more serious, Jennifer,” he said as 
evenly as possible. 

^Tt is unthinkable.” 

^^Nevertheless I suggest that you release me.” 

^^But can’t you see—that’s impossible. Even if 
there was to be further friction. . . . But there won’t 
132 



The Tangle 


be, Martin. We^ll get rid of Lilias Seyler, Paul, if 
necessary, at Fogasta. . . . We must go on now.’’ 

^^Even that—” he began desperately, but she took 
him up shrewdly. 

^To cry off because of a little friction, that decid¬ 
edly is not like you, Martin. I don’t believe it. 
There’s something more behind that.” 

Something more behind it—again he wanted to 
laugh grimly. If she only knew. But she must not 
know. He must keep up his end, lie like the deuce 
if necessary. 

^^There is nothing more behind it,” he said. ‘‘1 
just don’t want to go on.” 

She stared at him. 

^^And for no reason—save it is distasteful to you.” 

^^That is so,” he said, not daring to look at her. 

She drew her breath quickly, it was almost a sob. 
She turned to lean on the rail to hide her face. Pres¬ 
ently she said in a strained voice: 

do not understand why you have so suddenly 
changed your mind. I suppose I have no right to 
inquire. Still I have a right to insist that we are 
not left helpless. We must have someone of your 
capacity to carry us through. Are we likely to get 
anybody else?” 

Martin Sondes knew that he was cornered. 

^^You mean in Fogasta?” 

^Tn Fogasta or anywhere where such a man could 
be found quickly. Is there likelihood of getting a 
substitute.” 

^We could try,” he said lamely. 

133 



The Brute 


^^That is only temporizing. Do you think we could 
find a man and at once?^’ 

^^No/’ he said, almost in despair. 

^^Do yon think we can carry out the rescue of my 
half-brother without such a man?’’ 

‘‘Do you think it would be safe for us, even, to go 
alone? Will we be able to avoid danger?” 

Again he answered: “No.” 

She faced him squarely. 

“You agree then that it is impossible to release 
you?” 

“You could give up the idea,” he said desperately. 

She drew herself up, stared in amazement. 

“That is utterly out of the question,” she cried. 
“You know that. It is a sacred duty I owe my 
brother. And since we go on. . . .” 

And since they went on, since she went on, he would 
have to go too. He could not let her walk blindly 
into danger. He knew the dangers. There would be 
numberless dagos only too ready to go to any extreme 
to get possession of that seven thousand pounds. 
There was risk before them in Fogasta when the 
citizens of that predatory land smelt the money out. 
There was risk coming up behind as fast as the lamed 
Donna Diaha could carry Cipriano, Pascobas and 
Gonzala. There was risk to Jennifer’s person, as a 
woman rich for ransom. There were risks when they 
tried to bribe Kalph Felton out of jail, risks of men, 
risks of disease. He saw that circumstances had him 
tight. He must be there to protect her. She said: 

134 



The Tangle 


“And since we must go on we must hold you to 
your word.^^ 

He bowed acceptance, curtly. 

“Very well,” he said, “I will go with you.” 

He would go on. The thing was written. He 
would rescue a man he would rather keep in jail. 
He would be defamed by that man and Jennifer would 
hate him. But fate had ruled it so. He had given 
his word. And he must protect Jennifer. He was 
beginning to see clearly that, whatever the hurt to 
himself, he must protect Jennifer. 



CHAPTER XVI 


TIED HANDS 

H aving made Ms choice, Martin Sondes was 
more himself on the long run up the golden 
river to Fogasta, but at that little rambling 
town he was tedious. That is, Lilias Seyler decided 
he was tedious and also overbearing. 

He asked his passengers to show themselves as 
little as possible—he and his mate and his white hands 
made short work of the fruit and vegetable sellers 
who came out to the schooner, so that they were soon 
left alone by the boatmen. Finally, though, he went 
ashore himself with one of the English hands, and 
made a point of asking the others not to follow him. 

^^He is treating us like a pack of school children,” 
said Lilias bitterly. 

^^He probably knows his business,” said Paul coldly. 
^Ht’s undoubtedly for our own good.” 

^^Oh, you’ve gone over to the enemy, too,” she 
scoffed. ^^Well, I’m still a free subject. I like see¬ 
ing new towns and I have some shopping to do also.” 

think it would be wiser to obey Captain Sondes,” 
said Jennifer. 

owe obedience to nobody,” said Lilias. 

^Hn any case,” said Bevis quietly, ^‘you can’t get 
ashore. There are no boats coming off.” 

In this he had reckoned without Lilias. When the 
136 


Tied Hands 


American mate came to them after lunch, they real¬ 
ized that the headache that had kept Lilias from the 
table was a subterfuge. She had apparently bribed 
two of the deck hands to row her to the quays. 

She was away no more than an hour, and they 
were glad she returned before Martin. She came up 
the side with a handful of parcels, and her usual 
calm defiance in her face. 

^^An unpleasant little town,” she said. ^^Martin 
Sondes could best have kept me away from it by 
speaking of its manifest detractions. As it is he 
was wrong in suggesting it had lethal qualities. I 
have not been murdered or robbed, as you see, I don’t 
even think I was swindled.” 

don’t think Martin Sondes was thinking of the 
individual,” said Bevis Probyn curtly. And he was 
right. When Martin returned half an hour later he 
came straight to them, eyed them grimly and said: 

^^One of you went ashore?” 

There was silence for a moment then Lilias said 
with her slow laugh: 
went ashore.” 
forbade it.” 

am not one of your crew,” she said. ^Wou have 
no control over my personal liberty. Captain Sondes.” 

^^And you also enjoyed defying me,” he said evenly. 
^Well, thanks to that, Miss Seyler, the authorities 
have arranged to arrest us when we dock tomorrow.” 

There was dead silence and Martin, after letting 
his words sink in, went on. 

^^But before that—tonight in fact—^we are due to 
137 



The Brute 


have our throats cut and our strong-room looted by 
the choicest ruffians of Eogasta dockside. The en¬ 
joyment of your personal liberty has brought that, 
Miss Seyler. Are you proud of yourself?^’ 

^^You seem incapable of expressing yourself save 
in terms of melodrama,’’ said Lilias in a bored voice. 
^Tsn’t all that out of proportion to an innocent stroll 
through a rather penny-plain little town?” 

^‘You took two of my crew to row you ashore,” said 
Martin Sondes, ‘Though, if you had thought a minute, 
you would have noted that I had taken particular 
pains to keep my men from coming in contact with 
anybody from the town. Those men sat waiting for 
you in a quayside wine shop. And, being dagos, they 
talked. They talked of the millionaire English the 
schooner carried. They supported their romance of 
the fabulous riches you had with you by telling in 
detail how the arch-thieves Cipriano Bravo and Pas- 
cobas and Gonzala had tried to get them. They told 
that story. Miss Seyler, and interested persons on 
the quayside listened. And the news spread. When 
did you go for your innocent stroll? During lunch? 
by the end of the siesta, somewhere after three, all 
that those men had told was already being repeated 
in the Administration House. And the Administra¬ 
tion was overjoyed. The members of that highly ac¬ 
quisitive body saw you in terms of fat loot. Miss 
Seyler, and they began to plan at once to get that 
booty.” 

“You talk as though this was the home government 
of the Forty Thieves,” said Lilias with a hard smile. 

138 



Tied Hands 


is much more modern and effective/^ said Mar¬ 
tin. ^They will rob us with all the powers and 

subtleties of the law. We shall be arrested and held 
> 

on some count—an offence against the emigrant or 
sanitary codes, perhaps, it will be easy to manufac¬ 
ture a cause. We shall be held, and by means of 
law costs, bribes, fines and what-not else they will 
take every milreis we have on us, and any they 
think we can get from home before they let us go. 
They have carried that sort of thing to a fine art 
in these parts. Miss Seyler.” 

^^And the attack tonight asked Jennifer. 

^The whole waterside is talking of what the boat¬ 
men babbled. Every dockrat and quayside thief 
knows the story, for this is a land where even a 
whisper is winged. Every rogue in the slums knows 
that there are riches on board this schooner to be 
had for no more exertion than a knife thrust or two. 
And the thieves are not going to hesitate. You see 
they know their administrators and what will happen 
to us the moment we dock. They intend to forestall 
the government by acting tonight.’^ 

^^How do you know all this?’^ asked Jennifer. 

^^The friends I went to in Fogasta have ears for 
such whispers,’’ he said. ^Wou have to be like that 
to survive in a land like this. Even while I was dis¬ 
cussing plans with them, the news filtered in and I 
was warned.” 

^^That is pretty fortunate for us,” said Paul Glen 
in a friendly tone. You’ll know what to do. Cap¬ 
tain Sondes?” 


139 



The Brute 


The two big men faced each other for a moment, 
Paul rather red, but looking at Martin, level. Then 
they both smiled. That was all. But they under¬ 
stood each other. Paul had got over his drawing¬ 
room manner and was now an ally. 

^^Yes, we will do our best to beat them,’’ said Mar¬ 
tin, and his ^%e” included Paul. ^^That is why I 
made rather a public business of arranging to dock 
tomorrow at eight in the morning, when I might have 
done it tonight, or rather not at all. A race that 
lives for and by Tomorrow’ is not so hard to handle 
after all. The Administration will see no advantage 
in exerting unnecessary mental and physical effort 
until the time arranged.” 

^^And of course we don’t dock tomorrow?” said 
Bevis. 

‘We shall not even be here,” smiled Martin. 

“But,” cried Jennifer quickly, “what about my 
half-brother, Konald Buckingham?” 

Martin’s face darkened, but he said with an affec¬ 
tation of ease: 

“Konald Buckingham is not in Fogasta—^luckily, 
as things have turned out.” 

“You—mean . . . you mean. ...” cried Jennifer 
breathlessly, “that something has happened to him?” 

“Oh, no. He is quite well so far as my friends 
could say. He has been moved inland, that is all. 
He is in a place called Senzala, which is back of 
the plateau by the mouth of this river.” 

“But we can reach him?” 

“Yes, but the going will be exacting. We can’t use 
140 



Tied Hands 


the post road now—the only easy way, because of the 
interest shown in us. The jungle trail will be heavy 
marching.” 

^^But we can get him out of prison?” 

“In some ways it will be more easy, I think. But 
the road will be terrible.” 

“The only thing that matters is rescuing him,” 
said Jennifer. 

Martin Sondes nodded. It was no good fighting 
against fate now. He had to go on whatever it 
would mean to him—however much Jennifer was to 
hate him in the end. 

Perhaps Martin Sondes had been disappointed 
when he heard that Buckingham—or Felton—^was 
well. He did not quite know what he had hoped for 
—perhaps that the wretch had died as many did die 
in these dog-holes of Latin-American jails. But the 
man had not died. He wouldnT. His was the sly 
nature that found means to survive where better men 
succumbed. Again, he had not been imprisoned for 
any of those beastly acts that, at a pinch, might 
have spurred Martin to refuse to rescue him. Per¬ 
haps Martin had hoped for that, hoped that the story 
the man had sent Jennifer was as false as his life. 
But it was true. For once Felton had done a^"thing 
which was almost a virtue in Fogasta—he had been 
resisting tyranny as Jennifer had said. And had 
been taken for that. . . . Perhaps that meant he had 
turned over a new leaf. Martin hoped it was so, 
though his knowledge of the man forbade hope. 

Martin told soberly what he had heard about Buck-^ 
141 



The Brute 


ingham, and how their chances of getting him free 
had actually improved, taken that they could get 
safely to the little, heat-indolent town of the interior. 
There was no real Morro at Senzala, such as they saw 
towering above the painted patchwork town before 
them. The prison conditions in the old jail of Sen- 
zala were more casual, and they would probably be 
able to get their man out by a daring attack. 

Also, when they had got him out, they could get 
away quickly and with a fair chance of safety through 
the bush and by another route. They could get down 
to a big river called the Rio d’Oro, and in canoes slip 
down to a port called San An jo. The Evelyn Hope 
would go on and wait for them there. In this way 
they would have a line of escape clear of the hornet’s 
nest they would leave behind them at Fogasta. 

^‘And your plan of getting away from here?” asked 
Jennifer. 

‘^Simple enough. We slip away down stream 
under the cover of darkness. About three in the 
morning we leave the schooner. I have arranged 
with my good friends that men and donkeys will be 
waiting for us at a certain point, and that every¬ 
thing should be done with the greatest secrecy. I 
am hoping that everyone will take it for granted that 
we have simply put back to sea again—particularly 
as the Evelyn Hope will go out to sea; we should have 
nothing to fear.” 

^^And do we all go with you?” asked Lilias Seyler 
in her old bold way. 

^Tt is for you to choose,” said Martin quietly. ‘T 
142 



Tied Hands 


have already tried to point out the dangers and trials 
of the jungle trail.’’ 

am coming with you,” said Jennifer. 

^^And I most certainly must be in at the death,” 
smiled Lilias, and she looked at Martin pointedly. 
She, anyhow, knew what the rescue of Kalph Felton 
would mean . . . and meant to enjoy the revenge it 
would give her. 

Evening darkened to a night that was, luckily, 
thick with rain clouds. Indeed the tropic night rain 
came softly to their aid, before they moved, so that, 
across the sleek waters of the great river, the lights 
of Fogasta were blurred to a soft orange. Mght came 
and a dead quietness, with only the monkeys on the 
further bank barking in their eerie monotone, only 
the faint tinkle of mule bells from the dark quays 
of Fogasta, and now and then the distant, disem¬ 
bodied shout of a man. 

Ten-thirty and all hands stood ready to slip the 
anchor, with Martin Sondes waiting on the poop for 
the moment to give his orders. It was then that he 
laughed softly, gave a command to the mate, who 
vanished forward, and pointed to a savage red glow 
that was growing over a dark quarter of Fogasta. 

^^They have given us the signal,” he said. ^^There’s 
the sign that tells we are about to be attacked.” 

^What is it?” asked Bevis. bonfire?” 

^^A house on fire,” said Martin. ^^The whole of 
Fogasta will gather to enjoy it—including the officials 
. who should be watching us. While they watch the 

143 



The Brute 


beach thieves who have arranged it all will come off 
and rob ns without interference/^ 

^^Do you mean to say they have fired that house to 
cover up their attack asked Bevis. 

^^An old trick to distract attention/’ said Martin. 

^^They are certainly experts,” said Paul, ^^but mean¬ 
while we are moving.” 

^^Meanwhile we are moving,” said Martin, ‘^and 
presently we will be moving faster, when our sails 
help the current. The rogues who have marked our 
position will think we have sunk clean through the 
river.” 

They were slipping along with the stream, one of 
the Englishmen steering by guiding marks indistin¬ 
guishable to the passengers. It was some time before 
they heard the boats behind them. There were many 
boats, all obviously quartering the spot where the 
schooner should have been. The party on the Evelyn 
Hope heard voices calling softly, heard the bewilder¬ 
ment in those voices. They could almost feel the men 
casting about in their minds for the place in which 
the schooner might be. 

‘Tn a minute we’ll be round the bend, can hoist 
sail and be free of them,” murmured Martin. 

But at just that instant a dago on the deck decided 
that this was the time to smoke. 

They heard the scratch of the inefficient ^^State 
Monopoly” match on the box. It seemed to rasp 
through the air like a shout. They waited paralyzed 
for the spurt of fiame which must give them away to 
144 



Tied Hands 


the boatloads of cut-throats astern. It must come 
any minute. 

Scratch! went the match with a splutter of tiny 
blue sparks. . . . Now must come the flame. 

Scratch. . . . ‘^You dog!’’ came the quiet voice of 
Paul. There was the soft smack of knuckles against 
flesh and bone. A grunt. The thud of a body on 
deck. The match had not lit. 

Martin was with Paul, bending down. 

^^Knock out. . . . Good lad, Paul,” he whispered. 
^^Kick the brute into the lamp-house there. . . . 
That’s it.” 

Paul, without a civilized squirm, kicked the fallen 
dago into the lamp-house and shut the door. 

The voices behind them trailed into nothingness. 
They were almost out of hearing. They were safe. 
. . . Only, suddenly lights began to dance on the 
water far astern. Lights flashing sharp, dangerous 
rays. . . . The dagos, made bold by desperation, were 
hunting for them with electric torches. Their hearts 
stood still. . . . And then, as suddenly, something 
swept between them and the lights. A curtain fell 
and obliterated not merely the lights on the water, 
the blurred orange of the fire in Fogasta, but also 
the sounds of Fogasta. At the same time they real¬ 
ized that the Evelyn Hope was heeling gently, and 
Martin was barking orders that sent men running to 
the sail ropes. . . . They had rounded the bend of 
the river. They had escaped. 

In due time two boats were lowered, loaded with 
all that was needed for rapid travelling, and with 
145 



The Brute 


the money made up into parcels to look like clothes. 
Into the boats, too, the whole of the party descended 
with Martin Sondes in command. The mate remained 
on the schooner to take her round to San An jo. 
Kopes were paid out and they were drawn through 
the darkness of the jungle night, with the Evelyn Hope 
no more than a patch of deeper blackness in that 
night. In the first of the boats Martin Sondes was 
watching the shore and, every few seconds, flashing 
an electric torch. They all watched the shore in the 
deep stillness. The only sound was the rustle of 
clothes, and the suck and chuckle of the water as 
they were drawn through the hot night. One—two. 

. . . One—two—three went the white flash in the 
front boat. . . . Black night. . . . One—two. . . . 
One—two—three the flash again. . . . 

A little gasp went up from them all. Distant, in 
the solid wall of the night, a pin point of white had 
started to wink. . . . One—^two. . . . One—two, 

. . . One—two—three. ... A long ray of light 
from the leading boat. . . . And suddenly they were 
not moving; the ropes had been cast off. Jennifer 
just had time to see the Evelyn Hope vanish, a black 
shadow swallowed silently by the blackness over the 
water. She was gone. In that thick, tropic blackness 
they felt as though the world had dropped away from 
under their feet, leaving them hanging in the vast, 
empty spaces of the night. 



CHAPTEE XVII 


IN TERMS OF LOOT 


A SUDDEN burst of the rudder-motor in the first 
boat, which towed the other, and they shot 
across the broad river to where a white light 
held steady. Quite soon they were standing on the 
damp and marshy soil, while languid, ragged men, 
with the manner of dukes, save when their long 
glances paid tributes of admiration to the two beau¬ 
tiful if breeched women, loaded the donkeys with 
the packages from the boats. It was quickly done, 
and then, with a word, the single English hand in the 
boats started up the motor and shot out into the night 
to overtake the schooner. 

They were alone, alone in a mysterious and menac¬ 
ing jungle. No longer had they the protection of the 
sea and a good ship to safeguard them. They were 
alone, left alone to attempt an adventure that might 
mean death or prison, to fight ugly forces, the power 
of which they could only guess. They had only them¬ 
selves to depend upon, and that meant Martin Sondes. 
Without him, Jennifer felt, they would be lost. With 
him—well, she was certain they would be successful. 
She had come to that point in her knowledge of him. 
He was a man so remarkable that she simply could 
not conceive of any situation in which he would fail. 
147 


The Brute 


They moved up through the darkness of the night, 
following a trail intolerably rough and difficult. They 
climbed until they were bone weary and drenched 
with perspiration from the thick heat of the night. 
Jennifer was beginning to wonder if she could finish 
the march when a fresh wind blew on their faces, and 
the donkeys who had toiled and sighed at a crawl, 
began to trot upon level ground. Soon there was the 
definite pressure of a sea wind felt at an altitude, and 
they knew they Avere on the top of the high plateau 
round which the river wound to the sea. They camped 
there, sleeping like logs almost where they dropped 
to the ground. 

Next morning the real march began, and it hap¬ 
pened that that beginning had an ominous quality. 

As the peons packed up and the animals moved off 
into the forest trail, the rest of the party rode to the 
edge of the plateau to take a last look at the river 
beneath. Martin Sondes had told them they were 
almost bound to see the Evelyn Hope^ for the bend 
was a big one. He was right. They saw the Evelyn 
Hope like a toy beneath them. 

And they saw another toy ship too. 

She was limping up stream. Her gear was sadly 
out of order and there was a stain on her main deck 
that suggested she had been on fire. It took them a 
full minute to recognize that she was no other than 
the Donna Diaha. Martin told them that there was 
no doubt about it. Instead of heading back to Saluce 
the Donna had come up to Fogasta for repairs. And 
there was no doubt she had done that because those 
148 



In Terms of Loot 


on board her hoped against hope that they would 
hear news of the party. 

They looked down with much of the excitement of 
refugees who see pursuing bloodhounds on their trail. 
They watched the two ships approach each other with 
beating hearts. Would anything happen? Would 
those on the Donna attack the Evelyn Eope^ for they 
must feel that the party and the money was on board, 
they knew no different. The ships came level, about 
a cable apart. The Donna seemed to hang. . . . 
Then they saw that she was going on. Calmly, with¬ 
out exchanging a shot, she limped ahead, making for 
Fogasta. 

They stared down, wondering, hoping it did not 
mean anything ugly. Paul said: ^^She’s too dam¬ 
aged, I suppose, to risk a fight with the schooner.’’ 

^^There is that,” said Martin noncommittally. 

^^But you don’t think that is the reason,” said Lilias. 
^What is the reason she didn’t attack the Evelyn 
Hope?” 

know no more than you.” 

^What do you think is the reason?” asked Jenni¬ 
fer. 

‘Tt looks,” he said evenly, ^^as though they were 
aware that we are no longer on board.” 

^^But how?” from Paul. ^^They couldn’t possibly 
have heard.” 

can only give you my explanation. They ought 
to have attacked. . . . How do they know? Nothing 
easier than that some crazy deck-hand should yell the 
news across in the hope of saving his throat from 
149 



The Brute 


Cipriano^s knife. . . . Oh, well, even if they do know, 
they don’t know the full facts. Nobody knows we are 
bound for Senzala, not even the mate. We’ve got that 
start of them.” 

They had that start of Cipriano and his cut-throats, 
but, as they rode from the plateau into the misty 
gloom of the jungle trail, they felt the sense of omi¬ 
nousness depressing them. These scoundrels were 
following them and might add a deadly complication 
to those waiting for them at Senzala. 

Soon, however, the discomforts of their journey 
banished all other thoughts. 

Jungle trails are alike in their damnableness 
throughout all tropic countries. They only differ in 
some having more barrenness and thirst and others 
having more flies and biting things. The jungle track 
to Senzala was mainly flies and biting things. 

They pushed doggedly for days through the heat of 
a Turkish bath in the dank bloom of a cellar. Their 
path was sometimes no more than a runnel a few 
inches wide, worn by the feet of hunters. High over¬ 
head the trees, matted by vines, shut out all light of 
the sun, leaving to them the morbid gloom of decay¬ 
ing things. 

Along this path they stumbled and sweated. 
Hacking now and then through the vines that had 
grown across the path since the last traveller had 
passed, crawling over fallen trunks matted with slimy 
growths from which snakes fled, wriggling, unless 
they were jararacas, when they turned to fight. As 
they fought their way slowly on even their thin, light 
150 



In Terms of Loot 


garments frayed and chafed their heat-moist skin, 
and every now and they they had to halt to dig out 
the heads of little red burrowing insects with needles. 
When night came they beat the bush for snakes and 
lit fires and slung their hammocks and slept like dead 
people. . . . Only Martin saw to it that they were 
well guarded. 

Out of the jungle they crossed plats of sun-bitter 
earth, where bare soil and callous rock threw back 
the glare like hot brass so that they felt the very 
marrow in their bones becoming parched. It was a 
terrible march to people not inured to such condi¬ 
tions. Roughness of going, heat and enervating hu¬ 
midity sapped all their strength and they toiled limply 
like rags of human beings. And yet they must go on, 
go on fast and keep going on. Cipriano was behind 
them somewhere, the officials and thieves of Fogasta 
might start after them at any minute should a rumour 
of their journey get out. They must go on. Even 
when the peons began to murmur against the urgency, 
they went on, Martin dealing with them firmly and 
decisively and Paul, now his right-hand man, ably 
seconding him. 

It was a marvel how they all stood the grinding 
march, how the women endured it. 

Passing along the column on the third day Martin 
came upon Jennifer reeling with weariness in her 
saddle. He frowned at her condition, eased his stride 
beside her. 

“I think weJl stop at the next clearing. You want 
a good solid sleep.” 


151 



The Brute 


want a million years of sleep, in a cool room, 
and now,’’ she said smiling wanly. ^^Only the next 
halt isn’t for three hours, is it?” 

^^We’ll have to make a change. You can’t go on in 
that condition.” 

^‘You’ll see in three hours’ time. I don’t halt until 
then.” 

^^^N'o. No. You must rest.” 

won’t. I go on. We don’t stop an unnecessary 
minute.” 

“You don’t want to crack up and lose time through 
illness, do you?” 

“I won’t crack up. I refuse to crack up. I am 
going on, Martin.” 

He looked at her as she lolled in the saddle, fatigued 
but indomitable. 

“You’ve got tremendous pluck, Jennifer,” he said 
in admiration. 

She answered quite inconsequently yet with a re¬ 
viving spirit. 

“It’s a long time since you threw me a word, Mar¬ 
tin. Why don’t you come and talk with me some¬ 
times?” And then, as though she had been too bold: 
“There is nothing so revivifying to the female heart 
as a morsel of gossip.” 

He stared at her, a little sick at heart. He had kept 
away from her. It was better so. Why build up an 
intimacy that was delicious? It would only make 
the break more bitter when Felton was rescued. He 
stared, and before he could answer she went on, 
smiling: 


152 




In Terms of Loot 


^^Your primitive conditions are making me primi¬ 
tive, Martin. I have a primitive desire to cut fencing 
and go straight to the point. I miss talking to you, 
Martin. Why don’t you talk to me?” 

He answered with a half-truth: ‘^On this sort of 
march one loses the instinct for being sociable.” 

have a feeling that you are keeping away from 
me deliberately,” she said. 

‘^It’s the conditions. On the trail like this one be¬ 
comes morose.” 

His answers had no effect on her. She went on 
calmly: ^^It’s queer, but we seem to have reversed 
positions. It is you who are losing your directness 
and fencing like a drawing-room diplomat, while I— 
I am going back to elemental brass tacks. Conditions, 
—^you can’t expect me to believe that. When condi¬ 
tions were even more exacting, when we attacked the 
Donna we were nearer to each other, more candid. 
Martin, whose fault is it, yours or mine, that we have 
lost that sense of intimacy? I valued it. It was 
rather fine, rather stimulating.” 

^^On the Donna it was exciting. Here it is just a 
dull grind.” 

She looked at him level, clear-eyed, steady-eyed. 

^^All right,” she smiled. ^‘1 won’t beat my head 
against that wall, then, if you are going to keep it 
stony. But on another count—talking is a tonic. See 
how much I have revived already. Why not try it 
if not in friendship then as a treatment?” 

She was smiling, she was joking, despite a certain 
gravity behind her eyes. And she had spoken the 
153 



The Brute 


truth. She had revived. She had thrown off the 
deadly limpness of her weariness in their short talk. 
He did have a stimulating effect on her, he could see 
that in the sparkle of interest in her eyes, the new 
alertness of her slim poise. They were affinities. 
They did draw strength and courage from one an¬ 
other. . . . He could feel that in himself, too. For 
this girl he would dare anything—^privation, pain, 
ruin, death . . . yes, ruin and death, wasnT that ex¬ 
actly what he was doing? 

He said, catching at her spirit: 

^^Yes, I can see that talk is good medicine. But 
I’m rather a dull fellow, Jennifer. What can I talk 
about?” 

^^There’s always yourself,” she smiled at him. ^Wou 
don’t know how curious a human female can be about 
the reason why a man like you is out here. Why is 
he out here?” 

He laughed at her: ^Wou’re not afraid that the 
answer might be, ^He bolted from the police?’ ” 

‘^That would be too unconvincing,” she smiled. 
^Wou may have done an immense number of things, 
but any sort of crime would be against your nature. 
What was it, adventure?” 

His heart leaped a little. After all, whatever he 
might have done, she could see he was straight. He 
answered lightly: 

^Tartly adventure; partly necessity. I had just 
enough money to drift round and enjoy myself at 
home. ... Not enough to do anything big. And I 
suppose I had an itch to get out and do something I 
154 



In Terms of Loot 

thought bigger than drifting round and amusing my¬ 
self.’’ 

should say you hated that—our sort of life, 
Martin.” 

didn’t like it, Jennifer,” he admitted. ^Jt 
seemed to me rather petty and wasteful and mean. 
That sort of life just made me sick. It was so arti¬ 
ficial, and so proud of itself. The people did nothing 
and gave themselves such airs over it. ... I just had 
to get away to where life was more simple and natural 
and straight, where I could do something.” 

^Why did you come out here?” asked Jennifer. 

queer thing, that,” he smiled. was pulled out 
here— pulled. I don’t know whether you’ll believe it, 
but there was something in me that seemed to de¬ 
mand coming to South America. There were other 
countries where I might have gone. . . . But, no, 
something in my blood said ^South America.’ And 
I came out here like a bird homing. And there was 
something in my blood, you know. I found that out 
one day when I went up to a little town on one of the 
Amazon tributaries. . . . Oh, I didn’t go acciden¬ 
tally. One of the senators in Eio had told me a story 
about a man of my name having once done rather 
useful things in that little town. It was true. In 
the Administration Building of that place there was 
a painting—a bad painting, but very recognizable as 
some bad paintings are—that might have been of 
myself. It was of a man named Sonda. This man 
Sonda had been a wonderful person. He had prac¬ 
tically cleared the jungle and built the town. He 
155 



The Brute 


had also administered it with such character and 
efficiency, over one hundred and twenty years ago, 
that the fineness and prosperity of his rule still 
lingers and keeps that little town a quite important 
centre today/^ 

^^That is quite wonderful,’’ said Jennifer startled. 

‘^Sonda of course means Sondes. . . . Was he any 
relation?” 

^^My great-grandfather,” said Martin. ^^Of course 
I knew vaguely that the pile he had made, and which 
his son and grandson so sumptuously squandered, had 
been made out this way. But I hadn’t particularized 
it in any way. And I hadn’t seen that it was his blood 
in me that had urged me out here. It was, though. 
After the dear old chap had done magnificent things 
for his fellow-men, and, incidentally, his family, out 
here, he had gone home, somewhere in his late forties, 
and had married a smart wife. That was all plain 
enough when I put two and two together. I suppose 
his smart wife bound him to home, and the call of his 
second home was not to be answered until I came.” 

^^It’s marvellous. Did you take up his work again?” 

‘^No. That would have been butting in on condi¬ 
tions already formed. But—well, I suppose I had 
enough of his spirit to try to help human lives where 
I could. These Indians and half-breeds in backwater 
places. ... I conceived the idea that, if I could feed 
them with the things of civilization, I could help build 
up something. Not much, of course, but my theory 
is, that, though each man can add only a mite to the 
sum of the total of the world’s progress, it is the 
156 



In Terms of Loot 


adding up, the accumulation of such mites that is 
human progress.” 

can see it,” she smiled. ^^You went among those 
backward peoples helping them inch by inch in the 
uses and advancements of civilization. That’s a sort 
of missionary work. ...” 

^‘The best kind of missionary work is like that. I 
hope you are not scoffing at missionaries. It’s a popu¬ 
lar pastime—only don’t do it. The people who rail 
against missionaries are generally those whom the 
missionaries have prevented exploiting the ignorant 
Indian. That’s a fact. Especially hereabouts, the 
religious element has had a long and hard fight to 
prevent the exploitation of the native. That’s why 
they’re not popular. . . . You see, our sort generally 
think they have a divine right to exploit. . . . But 
that’s neither here nor there. And I don’t want you 
to think that I haven’t had pretty good value for 
what I have done in my trading. . . . It’s profitable, 
but outside the cash return there has been the satis¬ 
faction of winning the suspicious and timid by 
straight dealing, and adding to the lot of human life 
by broadening conditions and viewpoints. . . . I’ve 
been working like this for ten years in my own 
schooner.” 

^^How is it you have the reputation for—^well, dar¬ 
ing?” 

suppose I like excitement,” he smiled. ^^And, 
then, some of the places I have been to, and some of 
the Indians I have won over have been dangerous 
enough. . . . Nobody else dared go to them. Then, 
157 



The Brute 


once or twice, I have accepted contracts, like this one, 
for the extra profit, and, yes, the amusement I might 
get out of them. ... I went up a river and sunk the 
navy—^it was an old Mississippi river boat—of a 
rather tyrannical republic for the sake of a body of 
patriots who preferred a freer rule. IVe run gold 
ore from a coast town when a thieving government 
had decided to break all contracts and take a seventy- 
five-per-cent valuation instead of a ten-per-cent as per 
concession. . . . That sort of thing has come natur¬ 
ally to me. I suppose I’ve hot blood in me.” 

^^Or a sense of justice,” she smiled. ‘‘I notice that 
both these things meant the righting of wrongs. . . . 
Just as the venture we are on now means the righting 
of a wrong.” 

Martin felt it hard to stand up under that. . . . 
It almost drove him back into silence. The rescue pf 
that blackguard Felton the righting of a wrong! The 
irony of it was ghastly. He could scarcely answer 
lightly and ambiguously. He could hardly keep up 
the conversation, though he saw it had, indeed, re¬ 
vived and stimulated her so that she was a new and 
refreshed creature. He exchanged sentences lamely 
for a minute, and was glad of the opportunity of 
some sort of stoppage ahead to ride on to set the line 
going again. 

He did not fall back to her, but remained striding 
doggedly among the leaders. His thoughts were black 
enough. They did not become lighter when Lilias 
Seyler pressed her donkey forward and ranged along 
158 



In Terms of Loot 


side. Her slow, enigmatic smile played over him 
as she looked down. 

^‘What a passion you strong silent men have for 
turning the dagger in the woundshe mocked. 

^^And that means what?’^ he asked. 

^^Oh, you needn^t pretend with me!’’ she smiled. 
^‘The natural language of animosity is candour.” 

He did not think that worth answering. 

^^But I suppose one cannot evade these heart-to- 
heart talks with Jennifer,” she said. 

‘Why should one?” he answered shortly. 

“Where will they lead?” she said softly, fiercely, 
and without mockery. “Don’t you see that they 
only lead to a greater hurt—^when we rescue that 
man?” 

He stared rather surprised. He didn’t expect sym¬ 
pathy from her. She laughed a little bitterly: 

“You might have said, ‘But surely you, Lilias Sey- 
ler, will enjoy it the more for that.’ ” 

“I didn’t even think it,” he answered. 

“And you don’t think, either, I suppose, that there 
is something in me that rebels at the sight of you— 
you being the sport and the victim of a little milksop 
like that.” 

“Miss Seyler,” he said quietly, “I don’t think we’ll 
gain anything by going into that again.” 

“No,” she said, and her old mocking smile was 
forced to her lips again. “Not a thing. And I spoil 
my pleasure by allowing a little feminine nature to 
intervene to try and save you. I suppose this trying 
159 



The Brute 


marcli saps one. ... A little weariness makes women 
of us all.^^ 

‘^You are not quite fair to yourself, Miss Seyler,’^ 
lie began. . . . 

^^Don’t soothe me,” she sneered. ^^It was just a 
weakness. I succumbed to a moment of pity that a 
man of your type should be plunging deeper instead 
of breaking free, as anybody of character should. 
... I am myself now, Martin, and hating you quite 
heartily. When we have rested while you go after 
Ealph, and my old vitality is fully restored, I shall 
be able to enjoy to full capacity the engaging drama 
of Ealph exposing you to his trusting sister—and her 
reaction.” 

She nodded with the mocking smile on her lips, 
and a dark, cruel light in her eyes, and fell back in 
the line. 



CHAPTEE XVIII 
GEEEN GLOOM TEAILS 


T hey camped at last and had a long day of 
much needed rest. They did not approach the 
little campos town of Senzala for that was too 
dangerous, but lay snug under the shelter of an arm 
of the forest. Martin then delegated his authority 
to Bevis Probyn, and, with Paul Glen, rode down to 
the lethargic and sprawling town. 

He and Paul were dressed as aviadors, the pedlar- 
traders of Portuguese-America who travel from sta¬ 
tion to station through the jungle selling goods like 
hawkers. Pack animals went with them, with an 
assortment of goods Martin had bought back in 
Fogasta. They also carried a fair sum of money, but 
not much. Martin Sondes was prepared to bribe, but 
he knew that, with Cipriano and his rogues not far 
behind, daring action was their only chance of suc¬ 
cess. Bribery would be a long-drawn out and leis¬ 
urely process, for in the land of amanha (tomorrow) 
why hurry? Well, they had need to hurry. 

The choice of companion had been a difficulty. It 
would have been better to have brought Bevis Probyn, 
for he could speak the language, but that would have 
meant leaving Paul in charge of the camp, where his 
reckless inexperience might have been a danger. It 
would also deprive Martin of an assistant whose 
161 


The Brute 


strength, courage and daring would be useful at a 
crisis. If Paul had only a smattering of the language 
—but they got over that by making Paul dumb. 

Adequately disguised, Martin and Paul rode down 
through the rolling grass lands to Senzala. The little 
town had been an output station in the early days of 
the Portuguese occupation, a kind of ward on the 
edge of the jungle to guard against attack from In¬ 
dians the vast herds of cattle that once roamed the 
campos. Now the cattle kings had drifted south to 
Argentine and the great grass was empty. And Sen¬ 
zala had lost its vitality too. It was now a sleepy 
town too big for its population, though political time¬ 
servers had striven to placate its voting strength by 
making it a penal settlement—which is a very profit¬ 
able thing in a land where prisoners starve and die 
but for the food and comforts bribes can procure. 

Evidences of the local industry were met half a mile 
from the town itself. At one of the few remaining 
ranches they came upon a gang of convicts lazily re¬ 
pairing some crazy cattle sheds and outbuildings 
scattered along the track. They were a mangy crew, 
but not uncheerful. They were clad in rags that 
made the senses revolt at the mere sight of them, but 
they were smoking, talking, laughing and even sing¬ 
ing. They were glad, in fact, to be out of the odor¬ 
iferous and cramped quarters of their makeshift 
prison. Moreover there was nothing exacting about 
their task. The indolent guards were quite content 
to leave them alone as long as they did nothing des¬ 
perate. 


162 



Green Gloom Trails 


The guards, almost as ragged as their prisoners, 
were only distinguished from them by a sketchy ef¬ 
fect of military uniform, their bayoneted rifles, and 
their sleepy determination to avoid all form of mental 
or physical exertion. 

There were an extraordinary number of them, many 
on foot, many cavalrymen lounging by their lean, 
swift little horses. Guarding prisoners, indeed, was 
one of the few excuses the present President of Fo- 
gasta had for keeping a large army to support him¬ 
self and his version of Democratic Liberty. 

They looked pleasant little fellows, these ragged 
soldiers, and in their lazy, charming way they were. 
But let any one of their charges give them but the 
slightest excuse for their favourite pastime of shoot¬ 
ing off guns, and they would act like savages. The 
infantry would fire and use their bayonets with ter¬ 
rific zest, and the horsemen would have fine sport in 
riding their victim down, bringing him to earth with 
the bolos that hung at their saddles, and then finish¬ 
ing him off with their lances. The prisoners knew 
this quite well. That was why the guards were able 
to loll gracefully and smoke without anxiety. 

Sondes, as indolent, apparently, as any real dago, 
stopped and chatted with the first group of guards. 
He gave them the blessings of Heaven, and took the 
same for himself. He explained that Paul had the 
gifts of dumbness and feeble wits—things that give 
a man an almost holy reputation in Latin-America— 
and after discussing prospects of trade and the lot¬ 
tery, asked permission to make a little offering of 
163 



The Brute 


cigarettes to the unfortunates under Heaven and the 
law of Fogasta. It is the thing one does naturally in 
those parts. 

Piously he handed cigarettes to a group of prison¬ 
ers, his eyes examining each alertly. He was hoping 
that his luck would be in, and that he would see Jen¬ 
nifer’s half-brother. 

He saw instead an old Chinaman, but he made 
even that help. It was by expressing wonder at the 
sight of a Chinaman there that he caused the ser¬ 
geant of the guard to say in accents of pride: 

/^That is nothing. We have an Inglez in this 
squad.” 

Sondes would not believe it. With pulses racing a 
little he protested that such a thing could not be. 

‘Won couldn’t,” he averred, ^^ever put an Inglez 
into prison; not a real Inglez; this man pretends he 
is a real Inglez.” 

^^He is truly real,” said the guard with growing 
pride. ‘^He comes from the great city Piccadilly, 
which, as you know, is in the United Kingdom of 
England, London, and Ireland.” 

^ J would like to talk with him,” said Martin scep¬ 
tically. ‘J would soon show you, for I am a man of 
learning. I speak this Inglez.” 

That was how they found Kalph Felton. 

The guard said ^^Come.” He led Sondes to one end 
of a building where a full-blooded Indian and a tall 
shambling wretch worked lazily. The Indian went 
on working stoically, the other man come cringing 
towards them. He put out his hand. 

164 



Green Gloom Trails 


^^Senhor, a cigarette for the love of-He 

stopped, and the pale, shifty eyes in the fat, mean 
face were suddenly filled with craven terror. 
^^Sondes!’’ he cried, shrinking hack. ^^My God, 
Sondes!” 

Martin Sondes gave the ingratiating smile of the 
dago pedlar to the long, shambling figure so loose 
and fiabby. He said with a biting edge to his voice: 

^^Keep your nerve, Felton. I^m here to get you 
away if I can.” 

To cover the fellow’s confusion, he turned and said 
solemnly to the guard: 

‘‘Yes, he knows some Inglez; quite good. But I 
will see if he is only pretending.” 

Felton, looking at Martin with eyqs crafty as well 
as fearful, whimpering incredulously: 

“Yoti here to help me to get away. Sondes! That 
doesn’t sound quite genuine.” 

“I’m hired to do it. I’ve promised. Your half- 
sister is outside Senzala, up at the Encantar dell, 
waiting to get you away.” 

“Jennifer?” cried Ralph Felton with amazement 
in his eyes. 

“Yes, Jennifer Daun,” said Martin, in so stiff a 
voice that Felton shot a look at him and began to 
leer. The guard said: 

“What is this Jennifer, he speaks of, senhor?” 

“I am asking him, since he says he comes from the 
city of Piccadilly, if he knows the great store called 
Jennifer which everybody should know. He says he 
does, but I am going to find out.” 

165 




The Brute 


Felton said: 

^^How in the blazes did Jennifer get out here, meet 
you, put you under her spell 

“We can^t go into that now,’’ Martin objected stiffly. 
“Have you got any idea about getting away?” 

“None worth a damn,” said Felton with half a 
snivel. “Out here, you see, it’s hopeless. These curs 
would get me and cut me to pieces before I could make 
the forest. And, even after that, without money-” 

“What about the prison itself?” 

“Darn risky!” bleated Felton. 

“We’ll have to take risks,” Sondes answered. 
“Have you any suggestions?” 

“You know you could bribe these fellers.” 

“No time,” said Martin. “It’s got to be a quick 
job. We’ve got a pack of sneak-thieves on our trail 
now.” 

Felton said hesitatingly: 

“There is a way I’ve always thought of, but it’s 
risky.” 

“Get on with it,” Sondes snapped. 

“This is what I thought. Alongside the prison is 
the Jiospedaria -” 

“Use your own language, you fool!” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” cried Felton, squirming unpleas¬ 
antly. “Well, one side of the prison is made up by 
the wall of the inn of St. Pius. The inn has a flat 
roof. Somebody with a rope might get down from 
that roof into the little suh-patio ’’—he squirmed again 
—“I mean, courtyard, on that side. The door of the 
cell which I and twenty others sleep in, opens on to 
inn 





Green Gloom Trails 


the court. There is a number on it—No. 3. But 
climbing down that rope means risking the guard— 
and outing him.” 

^^The door of your cell locked?” 

^^The sentinel on duty has the key. He’s supposed 
to be ready to admit the commandante at any time he 
choses to make his rounds. But he never makes them 
at night.” 

^Ts the sentinel the only guard in the courtyard?” 

^‘The only one awake. There’s a little guard-room 
away to the left. You’ll know it because a light is 
burning in it. But the guards are always asleep.” 

^^Right. You’d better be as close to the door of 
your cell as possible tonight and the next few nights. 
Be ready to slip out instantly. What time is the 
best?” 

“Oh, after eleven, the others will be asleep then. We 
don’t want any of the scum in with me to get out, do 
we?” He saw the flicker of contempt pass across 
Sondes’s eyes. “I mean to say, if they all got loose 
they might raise Cain, and it would be risky for me 
—I mean, you.” 

“Very well,” Martin agreed. “When I come, to¬ 
night or tomorrow, it will be after eleven. Be ready.” 

“Yes,” said Felton; and his lips were dry. “But 
bribing would be ever so less dangerous.” 

“We have not the time. Your half-sister is in dan¬ 
ger, too, don’t forget.” 

“Ah, yes, Jennifer,” he said. “Up at Encantar, you 
said, with peons and money and everything, ready to 
get away?” 


167 



The Brute 


^‘That is so/’ said Sondes. He turned to the ser¬ 
geant of the guard. ^^It is as you say. It is amazing, 

hut he is veritably an Inglez. He tells me-” He 

gave a highly unveracious story that he declared the 
prisoner had told him as they went to rejoin the 
^^dumb” Paul and the donkeys. 

Then with courtly adieux they rode into Senzala 
and to the Inn of St. Pius. 

Everything was as Felton had said. The extem¬ 
porized prison building abutted the wall of the inn, 
and from the flat roof Martin looked straight down 
into the little courtyard. On the whole things were 
going to be very simple. A man could easily get down 
into that patio by means of a rope, and he considered 
himself well able to deal with any dago guard. 

Satisfled he made his plans for that night. He 
went out into the town and bought two strong, plaited 
hide lariats and three good horses to replace, he said, 
his overtired trading donkeys. He arranged, much 
to his disgust, that Paul should be stationed with 
those horses in a little side street not a hundred yards 
from the back door of the inn, and, about eleven 
o’clock, after seeing that all the doors necessary to 
their escape were unbolted, he climbed to the roof. 

Staring down into the well of the patio he could 
see to the left the small square of light made by the 
guard-room window. There was also a dim lamp 
burning under the colonnade of the patio; but no 
other light. Against these lights at rare intervals 
he watched the bulking shadow of a man. As that 
168 




Green Gloom Trails 


shadow had attached to it the outline of a fixed bayo¬ 
net, Sondes knew him to be the sentinel. 

A quarter of an hour after Martin had taken up 
his position the sentry had gone towards the colon¬ 
nade, and his footsteps had not returned. Sondes had 
also heard in the dead si'ence of the night such a 
sound as might be made by the knocking of a bayonet 
scabbard against a bench. He had also heard a few 
unmistakable snores. He guessed that, true to his 
racial instinct, the sentry was wrapped in stolen 
repose. Martin slid his knotted lariats over the 
coping of the inn wall. 

The wall, if anything, was in denser darkness than 
the well of the patio, and Sondes, going down that 
rope like a cat, was not seen. It was dark at the 
bottom, but the lights of the guard-room and colon¬ 
nade had more power here. He could see he was in 
a square court, surrounded by a heavy arcade, and 
under the arches he made out the shadowy blackness 
of the cell doors. He could not see the sleeping sen¬ 
try; he was probably snug in a corner. The guard- 
room Avindow was twenty paces from him. 

The wall by which he had come was black, and save 
for a few windows, blank. It would be difficult to 
locate his rope against it in a hurry. Sondes took 
out his watch and bound it to the rope, steadying its 
back flat against the wall. He would see the radium 
dial shining greenly. 

He crept silently to the guard-room window. Two 
men in hammocks and two on benches snored there. 
He was sorry to find that there was no way of jam- 
169 



The Brute 


ming or locking their door and keeping them pris¬ 
oners. He did one useful thing, however. The four 
rifles were propped against the wall near the door, 
and he found that by stretching his arm, and moving 
with the utmost delicacy, he could lift them through 
the door. He did so. Tnere would be no shooting 
and a general alarm, anyhow. 

He put the rifles in the gutter running round the 
patio and walked across to where the sentry must be. 
As he thought, the fellow was huddled in a very com¬ 
fortable corner, cuddling his rifle and deep in sleep. 
At his belt, as Felton had suggested, gleamed a bunch 
of keys. 

Sondes put out his left hand and softly grasped 
the rifle so that it should not fall with a clatter to 
the ground. Then he gently stirred the dago soldier 
with something he carried in his right. The dago 
opened his dreamy eyes, saw the flerce face hanging 
above him, opened his mouth to shout, saw the thing 
that Sondes held in his right hand, and shut his 
mouth. The thing in Martin’s right hand was an 
automatic pistol; the dago has a reverence for such 
things. 

“Senhor is wise,” Sondes murmured. “I am a des¬ 
perate man, and the top of one’s skull blows off 
quickly. Will the senhor have the grace to be wiser; 
that is, lay himself on his honourable stomach on the 
ground with his hands behind his back? Gently, 
senhor, both our lives are such frail things. And one 
loud word—I see, the senhor is of admirable under¬ 
standing.” 


170 



Green Gloom Trails 


In a trice, Martin had the man trussed and gagged 
with the rope he had brought for just this purpose. 
He took the man’s keys, went round the patio again 
until he came to the cell door No. 3. He had found, 
under the colonnade lamp, that each key bore a num¬ 
bered metal tag, so it was easy to open the door. 
When he did so, Felton came out with such a rush 
that he knocked Martin’s hand from the keys in the 
door. Fortunately, the keys did not fall out. 

^^Steady, you fool!” Sondes hissed softly. 

^Where’s the rope?” cried Felton in a croaking 
whisper. ^^Show me the rope! I must get up at 
once.” 

His teeth were chattering, he was trembling vio¬ 
lently, he was beside himself with craven panic. 
Sondes’s went out and caught him by the throat. 

^^Do you want to go back into that cell?” he growled. 
^^Steady yourself, or I’ll pitch you back neck and 
crop.” 

^Will you?” snivelled Felton. ^Will you, and what 
will you say to Jennifer then—dear Jennifer?” 

Sondes’s hand tightened in fury; he shook the fel¬ 
low like a rat. 

^Wou dog!” he whispered. ^^I’ve a good mind to 
kill you here and now—you deserve it.” 

Under the ferocity of Martin’s anger, Felton broke 
into an abject whimper. 

^^I take it back,” he wailed. ^^Don’t be a brute— 
my nerve’s all gone. If you’d got a chance of escap¬ 
ing from this hell you’d understand what my nerves 
are like.” 


171 



The Brute 


^Well, get ’em back,” said Sondes; you’ll never 
get out of this. How do you think you are going to 
get up that rope?” 

Felton at this threat to himself steadied. 

^^All right,” he whispered. ^^I’m all right now. 
Honest! I’ll manage. I’ll climb it, don’t fear. 
Where is the rope?” 

^^Can you see that splash of green light on the 
wall? That’s the rope,” Sondes said, and Felton 
would have run toward it had not the captain’s 
strong arm held him. ^Wait a minute,” Sondes went 
on. ‘^That isn’t all of it. We’ve got to prepare for 
accidents. When you’ve got to the roof of the inn, 
slip down through the building and out of it to the 
Eua Gelosia. Know it?” 

little blind alley. I know it well.” 

‘^Good! There is a man waiting with three horses 
there. An Englishman, Paul Glen. He’s ready for 
you. If there’s any accident here, get off at once. 
But you’ll recognize it’ll be fatal to wait.” 

^^Good heavens, yes!” moaned Felton. Then in a 
sly voice he asked, ‘^Does this fellow Glen know that? 
He won’t wait?” 

^^He won’t wait if there’s trouble,” said Sondes. 
«I’ve given him instructions. He knows the risks.” 

‘^Excellent! Excellent! Kow can I climb the 
rope?” 

Martin had to restrain his eagerness so that they 
should cross the patio unheard. He guided the fel¬ 
low’s trembling hands to the rope, and watched him 
begin to mount shakily. 

172 



Green Gloom Trails 


He did it so clumsily that again and again Ms shoes 
and knees scraped the wall. So great was the noise in 
that dead, hot silence that Sondes turned about and 
kept his eyes closely on the guard-room window. 

Up and up the fellow went. There was a rattle 
as he touched a window jalousie that sent Martin’s 
hand swiftly to his pistol. But there was no stirring 
in the guard-room. 

The fellow must be up by now. Martin, turning 
round and looking up, even imagined he saw the bulk 
of his head and shoulders against the sky, as though 
Felton had made the roof and was looking down. 
He watched the green, shining dial of the watch for 
the three jerks which were to tell him that he could 
climb in turn. 

As he watched, something came hissing by his head, 
and a tile crashed into the patio with an appalling 
smash. 

At once a splutter of oaths broke out from the 
guard-room. The alarm had been given. 

Sondes, with one glance at the guard-room window, 
flung out his hand to the rope. 

There was no rope! 

He sprang round quickly, searching for the green 
light of the watch dial. It was above his head, and 
travelling upward in sharp, quick jerks. It went up 
and up, frantically, and suddenly went right out of 
sight over the roof edge. 

Ealph Felton had been true to character. At the 
first alarm he had determined at all costs to save him- 
173 



The Brute 


self. He had saved himself and sacrificed his rescuer 
with as little compunction as a man killing a fly. 

It was even possible that tile had not fallen acci¬ 
dentally, but had been thrown down to raise the 
guard. Felton was quite capable of removing his 
enemy that way, though that enemy had risked his 
life to save him. 



CHAPTER XIX 
THE AVIAPORS 


W HETHER by accident or design, Martin 
Sondes was trapped in a hopless position. 
There was absolutely no way of scaling the 
high walls of the prison and the guards were already 
coming into the courtyard. They had not quite real¬ 
ized what had happened, for they were much more 
concerned over the fact that they had lost their rifles, 
and were crying out to the sentry for an explanation 
of the situation. But though they did not under¬ 
stand it was only a matter of time before they did. 

Martin saw this all in a flash, as he stood with his 
back against the wall he could no longer scale. Not 
being a fool, he had his fears; being an extraordina¬ 
rily brave and capable man he had all his wits about 
him also. 

He stood silently, watching the guard running out 
of the guard-room and round the patio. As soon as 
they were clear of the guard-room he moved towards 
it. 

It was, he counted, his only real chance of getting 
away. 

He slipped towards the door, but his luck was out. 
Three strides, and he bumped into an excited man. 
And the man was calling: 

^^Someone here! Who are you? Are you Alonso?’^ 
175 


The Brute 


Sondes’ fist drove to his stomach, but rammed ribs 
only. The fellow yelped in pain and panic. Martin’s 
left to the jaw was final enough, but the damage had 
been done. The other guards were already rushing 
towards the sound. 

Sondes wasted no time. He darted into the guard- 
room and slammed the crazy door behind him. Then 
he sprang in a single leap to the other door of the 
room. 

It was locked. Of course, it would be locked; all 
the doors in a prison are locked. And the keys—the 
keys were even then hanging from the keyhole in the 
door of cell No. 3. What a fool he’d been to make 
that slip! Felton, in his panic, had distracted his 
attention from that important detail. He wondered 
if he should blow the lock out with his pistol. That 
would rouse the whole building, the whole garrison, 
possibly the whole town of Senzala, and the fleeing 
Felton might be caught. The thought of Jennifer 
made that line of action impossible. Should he try 
to hold up the whole guard-room at pistol-point and 
force them to let him out? 

He half swung round. He was desperate and dar¬ 
ing enough to do that. 

A sharp exclamation came from the window, and 
his hand darted for his pistol. 

^^No, senhor,” snapped a harsh voice. ^Wour hands 
up! Away from that pistol, quick. And up! As 
much as the move of a fly’s wing, senhor, and you are 
a dead man.” 

A dago soldier was leaning through the window. 

176 



The Aviadors 


He held in Ms hand the most monstrous and ugly 
long-barreled Colt revolver Martin had even seen. 
And Martin saw in the fellow^s eyes that he meant 
business. His hands went up. He stood stiffly against 
the wall. 

Two men came into the guard-room and while one 
relieved him of his weapons another brought a pair 
of handcuffs from a rack and snapped them home on 
Martin’s wrists. The soldiers were all rather good- 
tempered about the matter now that they had their 
man. It was the indolent Latin indulgence towards 
a helpless victim that masked the almost inhuman 
cruelty that could flare up at the flrst touch of anger. 
Martin understood their nature. He meant to try 
and make the most of it while he could. When one 
of the men said: ^^The saints were not with you this 
night, senhor,” he answered with fatalistic resigna¬ 
tion : 

^Tt is the fortune of war.” 

The soldiers responded to that touch. They smiled 
in a friendly fashion. It pleased them that their 
prisoner should carry himself in the face of death 
as a true cavaliero should. 

One of the men went out and presently returned 
with the sentry, surly and rubbing his wrists where 
the bonds had cut deeply. With them also staggered 
the man Sondes had knocked out. His profound 
shakiness did not prevent him from being in the flerc- 
est of tempers. It was he who insisted that he should 
knife the prisoner then and there. The sentry pro¬ 
tested against that, but merely on a point of etiquette. 
177 



The Brute 


His, he declared, should be the hand to strike the 
blow. After all, his honour as a soldier, attacked and 
bound while on duty, was involved. 

The two men wrangled over this point of procedure. 
The other three men sat calmly advancing their 
opinions on subtle phases of the situation. Nobody 
considered their prisoner’s feelings! After all, he 
had very little concern in this matter; he was to die 
anyhow, so why bother about him? Even the reason 
of his presence did not seem to trouble them much. 
They guessed he was here to release a prisoner; and 
as there had been no sign of an escaping prisoner 
they assumed he had failed. 

They were even ready, after about ten minutes’ 
fruitless wrangling, to have his unbiased opinion as 
to the etiquette of his own death. 

^^There is one thing you have overlooked, senhors,” 
Sondes said, knowing that his life hung on a mere 
thread, but speaking as calmly as he could, ^^that is, 
the disposal of my body. You will kill me, yes, but 
the presence of my unexpected corpse will perhaps 
cause some comment from the commandante. To 
account for it you will have to explain how you were 
caught napping.” 

^^That,” said the sergeant in charge, ^^is a very good 
point indeed.” 

They were all impressed by it. To avoid punish¬ 
ment was a matter even more important than satisfy¬ 
ing one’s honour. 

^^An excellent saying,” said another of the soldiers. 
178 



The Aviadors 


senhor, do you realize that your honourable 
body will be as difficult to dispose of alive as dead?’’ 

^^That is so,” said Martin, fighting grimly for his 
life, yet showing complete detachment. ^^But it 
might be of greater profit to you, senhors, if I walked 
out of this place without leaving visible trace or at¬ 
tracting attention.” 

They stiffened immediately, and their eyes glis¬ 
tened. To be bribed was not merely pleasant, it was 
second nature to them. The knock-out man alone was 
still furious concerning his honour. 

^^No, there will be no difficulty about your corpse, 
senhor,” he cried. have solved that problem. We 
will say we found you breaking in here, and so killed 
you doing our duty. In that way our honour will be 
satisfied and we shall also get promotion.” 

There was a murmur of agreement to this, but not 
so hearty a murmur. An excellent way out if nothing 
better offered, but bribery was still better. 

Sondes pretended to consider this. 

good plan indeed, senhor,” he admitted. ‘^So 
good that it pains me to point out its one flaw. What 
will your commandante say to the fact that your 
sentry was so lacking in alertness as to allow me to 
get right into the patio?’’ 

^^That is very true,” cried the sentry anxiously. 
^^He will be exceedingly angry.” 

^Tt desolates me to have brought this trouble on 
you,” said Sondes. make my suggestion that fur¬ 
ther trouble mi^ht be eliminated and that I can offer 
you some compensation—as a gentleman should.” 

179 



The Brute 


speaks like a true cavaliero/’ said the sergeant, 
and the others nodded with greedy eyes. 

^Tine promises do not buy even a dead donkey/^ 
said the man who had felt Martin’s punches. 

^‘That is so,” Sondes agreed with the coolness of 
desperation. ^^But I am ready to swear on the Cross 
to my good will, and to back it in cash to the extent of 
two contos of milreis.” 

At that they all smiled; even the sullen man sat 
up. 

^^That is spoken like a true Fogastian,” cried the 
sergeant. ‘We thank you, senhor, for your good¬ 
will in getting us out of our trouble. And this little 
matter of compensation—how will we get the 
money?” 

“That is easy,” said Martin, suppressing his ela¬ 
tion. “If one or two of you can come with me to my 
inn, now-” 

He stopped suddenly. He had to stop. The sentry, 
in his eagerness to get to the inn, had put his hand to 
his belt where he carried his keys. The keys were 
gone. 

Martin knew that this meant his doom. The soldiers 
stared at the place where the keys should be, and 
then at Martin. Their faces had suddenly gone 
frightened, wolfish. The sergeant said politely that 
no doubt the sentry had dropped those keys in the 
scuffle. They took a lamp and went to hunt for them 
in the patio, 

Martin knew where they would find those keys, 
and what else they would find—or miss! He sank 
180 




The Aviadors 


down on a bencli and resigned himself to death. It 
was all over. He found himself accepting extinction 
stoically. He did not even curse the disgusting 
cowardice of Felton that had brought him to this. 
But he thought of Jennifer, and he was sick at heart 
at the knowledge that he would not see her again. 

The soldiers returned, and their faces were ugly. 
The sergeant scowled, and said to the two men who 
guarded Martin: 

‘^He has let the Inglez, Buckingham, escape, that 
pig.” 

The two men sprang up in fury, their hands went 
to their knives. They were ready to fall upon Mar¬ 
tin together and cut him to pieces. The sergeant put 
out his hand. 

“Softly,” he growled, “we have our own skins to 
think of. There is punishment for all of us unless we 
go with cleverness. Listen. We must raise an alarm, 
but as that dog has escaped, we must protect our¬ 
selves. We will kill this man, using the knife on 
throat and chest, showing that we fought face to face 
and hard—as is our duty. We will say he slipped 
in here and stunned Alonso with a cruel blow from 
behind. Then he stole the keys and opened the cell. 
But we, being ever on the alert, heard him, and 
dashed out in our zeal, not troubling to get our rifles. 
And so we killed him.” 

“Had we better not shoot to show how earnestly 
we fought?” said a man. 

“No, that will give the alarm and bring people in 
here before we are ready for them,” said the ser- 
181 



The Brute 


geant. He turned to the man Martin had mauled. 
^^You will use the knife. Make it look like a 
struggle.” 

Martin stood up. He thought of dashing at them 
and making a fight for it even with his manacled 
hands. But they were ready for that. All save the 
sergeant and his executioner now had their bayoneted 
rifies levelled at him. His executioner drew his knife 
with a slow, delighted smile, balancing it delicately 
in his hand. 

^^It must be outside,” said the sergeant. ‘^There 
must be no signs of a fight in here. Bring him out.” 

The men put down their rifles to drag him out. It 
seemed Martin’s last moment on earth. He tried to 
remember a prayer. The men came at him. 

From the door a voice, in halting Portuguese, de¬ 
manded that all present should put their hands up, 
and do it quickly. 

All swung about. In the doorway, with an auto¬ 
matic pistol in each hand, stood Paul Glen. 

It took no time to deal with the guard. They were 
terrified. Martin’s snapped commands that they 
should face the wall were immediately obeyed. Hold¬ 
ing one of Paul’s pistols in his manacled hands. 
Sondes covered the trembling wretches as Glen se¬ 
lected handcuffs from the rack and linked them all 
hand and foot in a helpless mass. From the same 
rack Paul took the key that released Martin. 

Leaving the guard pinioned and gagged, they went 
out into the patio. There the greeny shine of the 
watch dial against the wall showed that the rope 
182 



The Aviadors 


was in place again, and what route Paul had used to 
come to the rescue. They climbed to the roof of the 
inn and made for the horses. It was not until they 
were clear of the town of Senzala that Martin reined 
to a walk and asked: 

^What became of Buckingham?” 

Felton was still Buckingham to Paul Glen. 

^^He rode off at a gallop,” said Paul. ^^Look here, 
Martin, what sort of swine is this Buckingham 
fellow?” 

Martin’s first thought was to make things easier 
for Jennifer. 

^^Don’t forget he’s probably had his nerve broken 
in that hell behind us, Paul,” he suggested. 

“Maybe so,” said Glen. “But it seems to me that 
even a broken nerve won’t explain how any man 
could leave his rescuer behind to face the knives of 
those brutes.” 

“What happened to you?” asked Martin, anxious 
to know what line to take. “How did he explain 
things to you?” 

“He came bursting up to me as though a thousand 
devils were at his heels. He said the alarm had been 
given, you’d been killed, and that we were to bolt for 
it like blue blazes or we’d be nabbed. He nearly 
stampeded me.” 

“But he didn’t quite. Why?” 

“Don’t quite know why,” Paul answered, grinning. 
“First reason, I suppose, was that I hadn’t heard a 
rumpus, and, as you don’t strike me as being at all a 
silent dier, I couldn’t believe you’d been finished so 
183 



The Brute 


gently. Also he was in such a devil of a panic, and 
panicky men lie to save their skins. Then I didnT 
like his tone. It was half cringing, half hectoring. 
All these things made me inclined—as you have called 
it before—to debate the matter.” 

^^That’s one on me, Paul,” Martin chuckled. 
^What was the fellow’s story?” 

^^Oh, he said something gave the alarm. He said 
he was half-way up the rope then. The guard came 
out and attacked you. You yelled to him to escape. 
He got up to the roof thinking you could follow, but 
when he looked down he saw one of the guards get 
you with his knife. Then he came away. All lies, of 
course.” 

^^There are elements of truth in it,” said Martin 
drily, thinking of Jennifer. 

^^Don’t believe a word of it,” said Glen staunchly. 
^^Let’s have the true story.” 

^^That’ll serve as far as it goes,” Martin answered. 
^^Save, of course, that the guard didn’t stick me.” 

Paul turned on his horse and stared at his com¬ 
panion. 

see,” he said, in a voice of understanding. “But 
I wonder how he’ll explain your live body to Jenni— 
to the others.” 

“Oh—oh, he made a mistake in the dark. What he 
actually saw was me knocking out the guard. I 
followed him up the rope a minute later.” 

“I see,” said Paul quietly. “All right. But I found 
that rope pulled up on the roof.” 

“You can forget that detail,” said Martin easily. 

184 



The Aviadors 


‘‘But how explain his arriving in camp before me? 
Yon ordered him off while you stood by waiting for 
me. It was darn good of you to come down after me, 
Paul.’’ 

“I just had to. When I saw that rope on the roof 
I guessed our lad with the yellow streak had left 
you in the lurch. I saw those dagos moving about in 
the patiOy so I slid down to investigate.” 

“Yes, a real man would do it instinctively,” said 
Martin with a touch of bitterness, and Paul Glen 
looked at him swiftly again. 

“Strikes me you know something about this fellow 
Buckingham, Martin?” he said. 

“I’ve heard of him before,” said Martin grimly, 
non-committally. 

“Something of a prize bad-hat, eh?” 

“I don’t think I’ll give an opinion.” 

“That’s evidence enough—from you,” Glen an¬ 
swered. “And Jennifer doesn’t know anything about 
him?” 

“Not a thing, I should say.” 

“No, I don’t think she does. She regards him as a 
sort of sorely tried god; adores him. But you—^you’ve 
known all the time?” 

“More or less.” 

“And you haven’t told her?” 

“Would you?” 

Glen again shot a look at him. 

“No, by Jove!” he said. “One can’t do that sort of 
thing to a girl like Jennifer. She believes in him 
utterly. One couldn’t spoil that—hurt her. But— 
185 



The Brute 


but you’re a pretty darn good chap, Martin, all the 
same.” 

He put out his hand impulsively and grasped Mar¬ 
tin’s. They rode on in silence. Presently: 

take it he knows where we’re camping?” Glen 
asked. 

^^He made a point of asking me,” Martin answered. 

^^So he’s gone straight to her? I wonder what story 
he’ll spill?” 

^^The only thing that matters is that she’ll never 
have reason to disbelieve it.” 

^^Oh, I say, that’s rather thick. That scalawag is 
quite capable of saying things about us to save his 
face, I should say.” 

‘^He’ll say the worst things about me,” Martin ob¬ 
served. ^^But I shall not disillusion her.” 

Paul shrugged his shoulders. 

‘^All right. I’ll follow your line absolutely. You 
have my word I won’t speak—if you don’t.” 

^^Thanks, Paul,” said Martin. know I can rely 
on that.” 

It was as well that he could, for very soon Glen’s 
loyalty was severely tested. 

They reached camp in the light of dawn. Yet early 
as it was Paul saw with astonishment every evidence 
of preparation for hasty departure. The peons were 
getting hammocks and packages on to the donkeys at 
a great pace, and, most amazing thing of all, it was 
Jennifer, backed by the shambling figure of Ronald 
Buckingham, who was commanding this movement. 

Paul could scarcely believe his eyes. That Jen¬ 
nifer was insisting on fiight, not knowing what had 
186 



The Aviadors 


happened to Martin and himself, not caring^ appar¬ 
ently, seemed to him incredible. Yet it was happen¬ 
ing. Bevis Probyn was obvionsly arguing against 
her plan, but she did not listen. She was urging on 
the packing. She was ready to desert them. 

But things more startling were to happen before 
PauPs eyes. As they rode up, Bevis swung to them 
with an exclamation of relief and pleasure, but Jen¬ 
nifer showed no such welcome. 

She swung round at Bevis Probyn’s cry, and the 
shambling Buckingham drew near and muttered 
something to her. Her face, which had been aston¬ 
ished, took on a blazing anger and disgust. She 
stared at Martin Sondes as though he were the fiend 
himself. As Martin swung from his horse near her, 
she stepped back as though he were unclean. He 
tried to speak to her. At once scorn and contempt 
fiamed from her eyes. Her hand rose. The riding 
switch in it slashed across Martinis face. 

Then, as Paul called out, she dropped her whip, 
and, with her every movement showing repulsion, she 
walked away. Buckingham, as Paul still named Fel¬ 
ton, walked with her, keeping her between himself 
and Martin Sondes, and the leer he threw at the big 
man was at once cringing, sly and devilishly triumph¬ 
ant. 

Martin stood grim and silent, with a red wale burn¬ 
ing on his face. To PauPs astonishment, he made no 
move. It seemed to him a useless thing to do. Felton 
had obviously lost no time in letting Jennifer know 
that he was the man who had hunted him down. 


187 



CHAPTER XX 


THE DAGO PRISON 


gone utterly mad, I think/^ said an 
angry Paul Glen fifteen minutes later. ^^She 
won’t listen to reason. She says she won’t 
have you in the party. She won’t even speak to you.” 

Martin Sondes, watching the loading of three of 
his own pack animals, nodded. 

understand her attitude,” he said quietly. 

^H’m damned if I do,” Paul snapped. tried to 
get her to explain things. I tried to get her to be 
reasonable, and she went for me like a tiger-cat. She 
talks of you as though you were a blackguard, and 
seems to think I’m mixed up in something wrong, 
too.” 

^Ht’s that fellow Buckingham—or rather, Felton,” 
said Bevis Probyn. don’t know what he has been 
saying to her, but what he said has changed her 
utterly.” 

^What he said,” Paul sneered. ^^A pretty story. 
I’ll bet. That fellow will say anything. Look here, 
Bevis, that worm-” 

^Taul!” Martin snapped. 

^^Oh, hell!” cried Glen, remembering he had given 
his word. ^^But look here, Martin, he must have told 
Jennifer something pretty extra foul for her to act 
like this.” 


188 



The Dago Prison 


anticipated it/^ said Martin. 

The thing he had expected had happened. Felton 
had ridden post-haste to Jennifer and exposed him 
—he had learnt that much from Probyn. Felton had 
even added a crowning touch, it seemed. So far as 
Bevis could mate out Felton appeared to have alleged 
that Martin’s rescue had been an attempt to kill him, 
that Sondes had hoped to draw the guards on to 
Felton to kill him, and had been caught in his own 
trap, Felton escaping only by cunning and courage. 
Glen, apparently, had played the part of blind dupe 
in this murderous scheme. 

Martin could only guess at this, for Bevis had 
heard very little. But it was certain that the break 
with Jennifer was absolute. She knew Martin for 
the man she had promised to hate, and she had fin¬ 
ished with him. Hatred was but a tame word for 
the emotion she felt. Felton had done his work 
well. He had given an unspeakable character to the 
man who had hunted him from town to town, and 
had ruined him. Felton was a master of half-truths. 
He had made the case against Martin absolutely 
damning without exposing a hint of his own devil¬ 
ment. 

Martin realized it all. Jennifer had finished with 
him. Well—better get the parting over as quickly 
as possible. 

“What is she going to do?” he asked Probyn. 

“She is going to head for the Rio d’Oro and take 
canoes to San Anjo at once. That is Felton’s idea, 
of course. He is all for haste. He wouldn’t hear of 
189 



The Brute 


our stopping until we received news about you. We 
had a quarrel over that. He says it is absolutely im¬ 
perative to get away at once.’^ 

^^He is quite right/’ Martin assented. ^^There is 
danger here every minute from Senzala and from Ci- 
priano Bravo, too. Once in San An jo it will be 
easy to find a ship and get clear away.” 

^‘The disturbing thing is this attitude of hers; her 
absolute refusal to have you in the party,” said Bevis. 

know,” Paul burst out, ^^and I’ll not stand for 
it. I’ve no fancy to be lost in a South American 
jungle for a girl’s whim.” 

“Oh, Felton will take you along all right,” said 
Martin. “Once you reach the Kio d’Oro it is merely 
a matter of going down stream.” 

“I don’t know that I’m ready to trust our—” Paul 
felt Martin’s glance boring into him. He ended 
lamely, “Our worthy friend.” 

“You can trust him to get to the Kio d’Oro as 
quickly as a man can, for it is over the Fogastian 
border, which means safety for him.” 

“I like this as little as I understand it,” said Bevis 
Probyn. “What’s behind it? Why this sudden ani¬ 
mosity on Jennifer’s part? Why this really—well, 
ugly resolve to leave you in the lurch?” 

“I rather expected it,” said Martin evenly. “That’s 
all I can say, Bevis.” 

“You mean that that fellow is an enemy of yours?” 
said Bevis watching him attentively. 

“Yes, we have fallen foul of each other on several 
occasions. We have no love for each other.” 

190 



The Dago Prison 


^‘All the same you rescued him/’ said Bevis, still 
watching. ^^One would say that in mere common 
gratitude. ...” 

“Well, he—all of you have no need for me now. 
He is quite right in insisting that the rest of the 
journey is best done without me. It would only lead 
to bad blood.” 

“It’d be his fault anyhow,” growled Paul. “He’s 
already made bad blood. That Jennifer should allow 
her common sense to be affected by a scala—” 

“That’s enough, Paul,” said Martin crisply. “It is 
only natural that his half-sister should share his dis¬ 
taste of me.” 

“Well, I don’t,” said Paul. “I’ve had quite enough 
of the fellow. I’m coming with you, Martin.” 

Martin frowned. 

“No. You and Bevis must go with Jennifer. 
There is no question about it. She may need pro¬ 
tection. Eemember, that until she gets aboard a ship 
at San An jo, there’s always danger from Cipriano at 
least. Don’t argue, Paul, ypu must go with the 
ladies. Their lives may depend upon it.” 

“But to feel that she has put herself into the hands 
of that scoun—” 

“That’s enough,” said Martin, giving him a peculiar 
look. “All the more reason why you should go 
along.” 

Bevis, who had been watching shrewdly, said 
quietly: 

“Do you know anything about this Felton, Martin? 
Can he be trusted?” 


191 



The Brute 


Martin frowned. Here was a quandary. He could 
not betray Jennifer's step-brother, but he should warn 
the others against him. 

“You must watch him/’ he said slowly. “For the 
sake of his own safety he’ll take you straight to the 
Eio d’Oro, but you must watch him all the time.” 

“Is that all you can tell us, Martin?” Bevis de^ 
manded. 

“That is all,” said Martin. 

“I think I see,” said Bevis. He, too, had that 
sudden intuition which had come to Lilias on the 
Evelyn Hope. He recognized that Felton must be 
the man Martin Sondes had been hunting on account 
of his infamies, therefore Martin himself was the 
“brute” Jennifer had sworn to hate. He stared at 
Martin. “I think I understand, Martin,” he fin¬ 
ished. “All the same, do you think Jennifer should 
go unwarned?” 

“Would she believe anything I told her?” asked 
Martin, understanding him. 

“No,” agreed Bevis, “I suppose not. “She is head¬ 
strong even in her loyalties. Yet, it is rather a 
grave position.” 

“I hope not,” said Martin. “You see, he’s got his 
skin to save, and a chance of—of making good. After 
what he has been through he’ll probably jump at 
that. He’ll want to get back to civilization and com¬ 
fort. Still, if you watch him. ...” 

“We’ll watch him,” said Bevis. He put out his 
hand. “And I honour you, Martin.” 

“Tell him, too,” said Martin squeezing the hand, 
192 



The Dago Prison 


^^that Cipriano Bravo and the rest—particularly Cap¬ 
tain Gonzala—are after you. That will keep him 
keyed up. ITl do my best to head that gang off, 
but the mention of it may be a useful weapon to 
you.’’ 

^T’ll remember, Martin,” said Bevis. ^^And may 
there be better fortune in store for you—soon.” 

^^What God sends God sends,” said Martin in Por¬ 
tuguese. He turned to superintend the final packing 
of his animals. He did not look round when the 
other party rode off, but somehow he knew that Jen¬ 
nifer sat her animal in an attitude that typified re¬ 
pugnance and disdain. When he had finished pack¬ 
ing, the party were swallowed by the jungle. 

Jennifer had gone and the world seemed horribly 
blank. 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE WAY OF CAVALIEROS 


I N three days^ time the party reached the village 
on the Rio d’Oro where Ralph Felton told them 
they would get canoes for their journey down¬ 
stream. 

By that time Jennifer was in a curious state of 
mind. She was still thinking of Martin Sondes as 
a monster, as a creature so vilely cruel as to be 
scarcely human. Or, rather, that was the impres¬ 
sion she yet was outwardly holding. Inwardly she 
was already doubting. 

During the first day Ralph had fanned the fires of 
hate that had sprung up in her when he first made 
his ugly revelation of Martin’s character—Martin’s 
true character as he insisted. Jennifer, trusting her 
half-brother before the world, had blazed in anger 
against Martin’s duplicity. She even believed Fel¬ 
ton’s story of Martin’s plan to get him murdered by 
his guards. She was helped to believe because she 
saw at once that Martin must have guessed whom 
they were rescuing, and had refrained from showing 
his knowledge. He had done that, Jennifer argued, 
for his own ugly ends—the murder of Ralph. 

She saw the whole of Martin’s actions in this light, 
and thought that explained the strange reticences 
194 


The Way of Cavalier os 


and sullennesses of the man. Yes, everything in that 
strange, harsh, changeable manner was explained, 
and Ealph Felton had touched up and added to every 
explanation. He had elaborated the picture of Mar¬ 
tin Sondes that he had sent home in his letters until 
he had made of Martin a brute capable of any infamy. 
With his gift for half-truths and insinuations, he had 
made the picture as feasible as it was abominable, and 
Jennifer had believed. 

For most of the first day she had been believing, 
the heat of her reaction against Martin sustaining 
her. She had refused even to discuss Martin with 
Bevis and Paul, and had cut short with a biting de¬ 
cision their tentative efforts to bring her to reason 
and get to the bottom of things. 

But towards the end of the first day, in the fol¬ 
lowing night, she was dismayed to find that deep 
down in her there was a queer rebellious instinct. 
It would not let her believe that Martin was capable 
of dishonest or underhanded actions; it seemed to 
refuse to credit Martin with the crimes Felton ac¬ 
cused him of. 

The next day that deep-seated rebellion was more 
powerfully gnawing at her will to hate, reminding 
her of all Martin’s finenesses, demanding of her if 
such a man could have done the infamous things 
Felton accused him of. Jennifer hotly told herself 
that of course he had. But she felt she wasn’t really 
convincing herself. She might have put this down 
to the betrayal of a heart that had gone out to a brute 
without reckoning on his character, had not her re- 
195 



The Brute 


bellion been aided by a growing distaste for her half- 
brother. 

The inevitable disillusionment grew steadily. Fel- 
ton^s very manner was obnoxious, for it was at once 
cringing and hectoring. Having wormed his way 
into her good graces, he began to dictate to her with 
an arrogance that had a tinge of meanness, which 
made her realize that Martinis curtness had, after 
all, been a manly thing. 

He clashed with Paul on the first day over some 
small matter, and from then on he worked hard to 
make bad blood between Jennifer and Paul in the 
hope of keeping the young man outside her confi¬ 
dence. He lost no opportunity of instilling venom, 
yet, to Paul himself, he was smiling, charming, 
friendly. That duplicity rather revolted Jennifer. 

There was his reasonless cruelty, too. He handled 
the animals as though they were insensitive things, 
slashing at them, spurring them, kicking them with a 
cold inhuman ferocity. Jennifer checked him and he 
became meek, swore it was his nerves. But she saw 
him getting his revenge when he thought her back 
was turned. He was the same with the peons. He 
used his hands or his riding whip on them at the 
slightest provocation. Martin had handled them 
firmly enough, but she saw that there was all the dif¬ 
ference between a just firmness, necessary to coun¬ 
teract a habitual indolence, and Kalph’s savagery. 

After knocking one man down, he retorted to Jen¬ 
nifer’s reprimand: 

^^Aw! Don’t be squeamish, Jenny. You have to 
196 



The Way of Cavalier os 


treat these dogs like that in this land. You^d never 
get a stroke of work out of ’em if you didn’t. And 
they’d cut your throat, too, because they’d think you 
were afraid of ’em. That’s the only thing they under¬ 
stand—being mastered.” 

Jennifer, with a catch at her heart, realized that 
Martin had been master without being cruel. Also, 
she had a sudden, terrible twinge of memory . . . 
the memory of Martin’s story of a blackguard who 
had treated friendly Indians with just Ealph’s sav¬ 
agery. She tried not to think that the man in that 
story had been Ealph—must have been Ealph—^it 
was like this Ealph she was just beginning to know. 

Ealph was cruel for the sake of cruelty. He 
would beat up a man whether he was doing his best 
or worst, and go on beating. He did this again and 
again, and, when the reprimand of a mere woman 
had no effect on him, Paul, who had kept studiously 
aloof, stepped in. He snatched the fellow’s whip 
from his hand, and threatened to knock his head off 
unless he behaved himself like a human being. 

And Ealph curled up at once. Cruel as he was to 
those who could not retaliate, he was a wilting coward 
under a man’s threat. . . . And worse than a cow¬ 
ard. On the second night, as they camped, a throw¬ 
ing knife had come out of the darkness missing Paul 
by inches only. They had tried to pretend that one 
of the peons had thrown it, but Jennifer felt, and 
she knew that Paul was sure, that it had been Ealph 
trying to get rid of someone whose honesty he feared. 

Steadily the conviction grew on Jennifer that in 
197 



The Brute 


Kalph there was a settled instinct against anything 
decent. His treatment of Martin, turning him away 
at a moment’s notice, had not been honest treat¬ 
ment, fair treatment. He had even persuaded Jen¬ 
nifer against an immediate cash payment of what 
she owed Martin. He had done this with the soundest 
reasoning. It would be much more sensible to put 
the money aboard the Evelyn Hope in San Anjo, he 
showed. Yes, that was reasonable, yet Jennifer had 
the feeling that Ealph hated to part with even a little 
of the money they carried, that he reasoned from a 
faint hope that something might happen to prevent 
payment. 

This unlovely attitude of his had reached definite 
expression when they began to trade for canoes in the 
little village on the banks of the Rio d’Oro. He ac¬ 
tually demanded that they should adopt the out¬ 
rageous attitude of taking the canoes by force and 
without payment. 

Here Jennifer, trying hard not to remember Mar¬ 
tin’s story of the treatment of the Indians, put her 
foot down. They would pay for the canoes at a 
fair rate or not take them at all. Ralph tried again 
to reason with her, but she was firm. Lilias, who had 
occupied her idleness by indulging in an open fiirta- 
tion with Ralph, and had, strangely, come under his 
curious spell, also tried to reason with her. But 
Jennifer was firm much to the exasperation of the 
sleek woman. 

^Why cling to stupid scruples?” Lilias demanded. 
^^It is the custom of the country to do things as Ralph 
198 



The Way of Cavalier os 


suggests. Do you doubt that your strong, silent cap¬ 
tain would not do the same?’’ 

“He wouldn’t dream of it,” cried Jennifer, and im¬ 
mediately flushed and checked herself, going on 
coldly: “Whatever the custom of the country is, it is 
my custom to act with a certain amount of honesty. 
We will pay for the canoes and carriers at reason¬ 
able rates.” 

But she had merely given Ralph a weapon to de¬ 
feat her in making such a decision. Ralph declared 
that the Indians would not let their canoes go at fair 
prices. After haggling with the cacique he came to 
her and named a sum that was preposterous. Jen¬ 
nifer said as much, and Ralph smugly agreed. But 
he also insisted that that was the sum the Indians 
demanded. They doubted his word, but what could 
they do? Ralph was the only one who could speak 
the dialect of the Indians. They were helpless. 

Ralph and Lilias again urged Jennifer to take the 
canoes by force rather than be cheated, but she re¬ 
fused to trick her conscience. 

“I suppose you won’t be happy until your pig¬ 
headedness ends in all of us having our throats cut,” 
sneered Lilias. “I suppose the strong, silent captain 
is answerable for that. If you haven’t picked up his 
ruthlessness you’ve at least imbibed his obstinacy.” 

“Both his and my obstinacy would be better named 
by calling it honesty,” said Jennifer sharply. 

“I see,” jeered Lilias, “and Ralph isn’t—-well, 
you’re the best judge. He’s your brother, at least.” 

Jennifer saw the point. The mere relationship of 
199 



The Brute 


Ralph with herself did not make him honourable, so 
that that basis of her belief in him was without 
foundation. 

Two days they spent wrangling over the matter of 
the canoes. The peons and the donkeys they had 
brought with them from Fogasta left them on the 
return journey. There was no particular need for 
them to hurry off, yet off they went, and it was only 
as they left that Bevis discovered that Ralph had sent 
them away. It was part of his deliberate policy of 
isolating them, of holding them at his mercy. 

Yet Jennifer would not give in; she refused to steal 
the canoes though they were all getting anxious about 
the possibility of Cipriano Bravo and his ruffians 
appearing on the scene. By the end of the second 
day even Ralph had talked himself dumb, the In¬ 
dians were still, as he said, unyielding, and the party 
was divided into two camps, Ralph and Lilias for 
taking the canoes, the rest for an honest deal. 

Paul growled: wish I could talk the lingo here, 

I’d soon settle the thing either way.” 

^^You wouldn’t do any good if you did,” sneered 
Ralph. ^^They wouldn’t climb down, and they would 
resent your methods and probably spear you.” 

think there is a language they will understand,” 
said Jennifer. will go to them tomorrow with 
money in my hand and make them an offer of cash 
down.” 

Ralph’s sly eyes found the floor. 

^^Of course, if you are anxious to have all our 
throats cut that is the way to do it. . . Let ’em 
200 



The Way of Cavalier os 


see how rich you are and theredl he no holding ’em. 
You don’t understand conditions here, Jennifer.” 

^J’ve learnt enough to know that fair dealing 
doesn’t hurt anyone.” 

^‘Who from?” sneered Lilias. ^^You’re not cred¬ 
ulous enough to believe Martin Sondes’s fairy tales?” 

^‘That cur will lie for his own ends about any¬ 
thing,” began Ealph viciously. 

^^That is enough,” said Jennifer. am beginning 
to know a little more about liars than I did before.” 

Lilias blazed out in fury at that: ^^You don’t de¬ 
serve any consideration. You don’t deserve to have 
a man looking after you and risking his life and 
liberty for the sake of your preposterous ideas. You 
deserve to suffer for your obstinacy.” 

That, they all thought, was a mere blaze of spit¬ 
fire anger. They paid no particular attention to it, 
until the next morning, when its meaning was only 
too plain. 

Just after dawn they were all awakened by an 
outcry at the waterside. Bevis and Paul looking out 
saw all the Indians gathered at the landing stage. 
The mere sight of them was frightening, for if ever 
men were mad with fury those Indians were. Some¬ 
thing was wrong. They slipped out of their hut to 
arouse the girls. They roused only Jennifer. 

^‘Lilias,” cried Jennifer through the thin walls, ^fis 
not here, Bevis. . . . Oh, and her clothes are gone.” 

Paul came up carrying all the ammunition he could, 
don’t like things,” he said. ^^They seem to be 
forking up for murder by the water there. There’s 
201 



The Brute 


something the matter with their canoes. I saw them 
pull one out, and it looked as though it had been 
holed and sunk. . . . For the matter of that, all the 
canoes seem to have been sunk. I think it will be 
wise if we take the girls to the shut-up church at 
the end of the village. It’s the only really solid 
building—^bring all the water and food you can.” 

^^There is only one girl,” said Jennifer stepping 
out of the hut. ^^Lilias has gone—^with her clothes.” 

^^Good God!” cried Paul, and by the way he stared, 
she knew that something ugly had happened. 

^What is it?” she demanded. 

^^Felton’s gone, too, with all Ms clothes—and all 
the money,” he said. 

Bevis gave a hard laugh. ^^The cur! I suspected 
this was his filthy work.” He caught the question in 
Jennifer’s glance. ^^He’s given us the slip with Lilias 
and all the money—taken canoes, of course, perhaps 
forced Indians to work them. And he’s sunk the rest 
of the canoes. That’d be his logic. It prevents pur¬ 
suit, you see—but, by Heaven! he’s left us to face the 
music without a penny, without any adequate means 
of defending ourselves against these enraged Indians. 
And—and we rescued him! Love of Heaven, was 
there ever a cad more callous!” 

^ J doubt whether there is another to equal him,” 
cried Paul savagely. ^^He’s an utter scoundrel. . . . 
Oh, you’d better know it, Jennifer. He tried to kill 
Martin Sondes even as Martin was getting him out 
of that prison. You’ve got to recognize that he’s a 
skunk. ...” 


202 



The Way of Cavalier os 


do,” said Jennifer dazedly. ^^IVe been recog¬ 
nizing it for days. But we must do something now. 
We must try and at least save you two from the 
consequences of my folly.” 

They were rather lucky. The Indians were too 
occupied with their rage to turn their attention from 
their damaged canoes. Also, they probably assumed 
that all the whites had bolted. The little party was 
able to get a fair supply of food and water and all 
their guns and ammunition to the small mud church 
before they were seen. But they were seen. A 
woman raised the alarm as Paul staggered towards 
the church with two kerosene tins of water. He re¬ 
fused to drop those tins and in consequence had only 
reached the door as a seven-foot arrow buried itself 
in the woodwork a bare six inches from his shoulder. 

Bevis snatched him inside, and they began to pile 
chairs and a confessional against the door. The mob 
of Indians yelled madly and hurled themselves at the 
church. Old guns and modern revolvers banged off, 
and slugs and nickel-coated shots crashed through 
the wood. 

Then in a pile the savages were at the door, claw¬ 
ing at it, hammering at it, slashing at it with knives 
and hatchets. A rotten chair wedged under the 
handle split and broke, the door sagged open. The 
confessional and the pile of chairs began to slide. 
Brown arms, fierce, brown faces forced a way through 
the crack. The little church was made infernal with 
furious, shrill cries, and the clatter of falling things. 
A throwing knife whizzed by Paul’s head as he la- 
203 



The Brute 


boured, sweating, to keep the barricade of chairs firm. 
A long knife in a lean hand slashed at Bevis. There 
was the thud of hurling bodies on the door. . . . 
Then the chairs came down in a grand slide. The 
barricade was crumbling. . . . Indians forced their 
way through the door. It was all up. . . . 

Abruptly the tiny building was filled with thun¬ 
der. It roared and clamoured, beating back and back 
again from wall to wall. It ran through a sharp, 
terrifying burst of seven sharp claps. . . . Jennifer 
was firing her automatic. The stab of the fiame and 
the crash of the bullets through the woodwork of the 
door gave a touch of the infernal to the noise in that 
confined space. The Indians yelled in fright, and 
absolutely fought their way out of the church. Paul 
and Bevis hurled the door shut, swung the confes¬ 
sional against it, and securely wedged the confes¬ 
sional with chairs. 

‘Well done, Jennifer,” Bevis cried, when they stood 
back panting and drenched in perspiration. “That 
shooting came at the psychological moment. I won¬ 
der whether you hit anybody.” 

“Not one,” she smiled shakily. “I aimed high. To 
kill after what we have brought to them was un¬ 
thinkable.” 

“We donT want to hurt them,” said Bevis, “but 
“I’m afraid we’ll have to.” 

The Indians were coming again. Their shrill cries 
sounded all round the building. A crackle of shots 
snapped out, and the remnants of glass in one of the 
windows burst to pieces with a harsh clap. Arrows 
204 



The Way of Cavalier os 


and great stones crashed through other windo^\^s. 
Outside another window there came a tumult of men 
gathered together, and the scrape of poles on the sill. 
Paul and Bevis stood ready for the men who were 
to mount to it. There was a sharp cry from Jennifer. 
They looked round. Two Indians hacking at another 
window had crashed through and were leaping into 
the church, as others climbed to the window behind 
them. 

^Watch this side!” yelled Paul, and he leaped 
across the church. As he did so, his pistol spoke and 
glass and mud flew from a window with such fury 
that the men who had climbed there fell over back¬ 
wards in a frightened, screaming bunch. The other 
two men crouched ready to kill Paul. One stood 
with a spear poised, one with a cruel, cutting knife. 
Paul darted forward, paused in his jump, side¬ 
stepped. 

The spear hissed by harmlessly, the man springing 
with the knife missed. He wriggled round to strike 
again. His companion reached for his knife. Paul 
was on them. He had snatched a chair as he sprang. 
In his strong grip the chair swept at the men. One 
man went over sprawling. The other was flung flve 
feet and crashed against the wall. The man on the 
floor did not rise. The man against the wall turned 
like a puma and tried to dive in under the chair. He 
got under it; his knife arm shortened. He was on 
Paul. Paul let go the chair in the air, his left fist, 
already crooking, was followed in a flash by the 
right. The Indian taking the left on the chin was 
205 




The Brute 


already dropping under the knock-out, when the right 
tore home. He reached the ground a fraction before 
the falling chair which came down on the back of 
his head. 

Bevis on his side was firing his pistol. 

Two of the three windows in his wall were already 
full of men. So was one on Paul’s side. Men were 
swarming up eager to get in and kill the whites. 
They had realized that the whites’ bullets did not 
hit; being savages they decided that that was because 
the whites could not shoot straight. Paul and Bevis 
realized this at once when their firing was met with¬ 
out fear. They knew that unless they took drastic 
steps they would be swamped and killed—and, above 
all, Jennifer would fall into those barbarous hands. 
At the same instant they both chose the same course. 
They fired deliberately, carefully. Two men screamed 
in pain. Two men, one with blood streaming from a 
shoulder, one with a broken leg, fell backward on to 
the heads of others trying to mount. ... As though 
by magic the windows cleared. 

They stood, after tying up the two stunned men, 
in a strange, disturbing silence, waiting for the next 
attack. None came. Five minutes passed. They 
felt a great relief. Ten—they began to get anxious. 

^What are they up to, confound them?” growled 
Paul. ^Tf we could only see.” 

^^Yes,” said Jennifer, “if we could only see—” 
Then she laughed. “But of course we can. We^re 
forgetting the belfry.” 

She moved towards the little door by the porch. 

206 



The Way of Cavalier os 


Bevis stopped her and, picking up a box of cartridges, 
went up the steps himself. There was silence for 
another minute. Then they heard his voice shouting: 
‘^Bring up a Winchester, Jennifer.’’ 

Immediately his pistol began to whip-snap; slow, 
careful explosions that came to Paul in the church 
with a queer disembodied sound. It was like stage 
shooting heard ‘^off” . . . queer, unnatural. He 
climbed up in the pulpit where he obtained a greater 
command of all windows and some cover. IS'othing, 
however, appeared at the windows. The noise of the 
automatic gave place to the crack of the rifle. Then 
angry shouting arose outside. The Winchester 
cracked steadily. The noise of a pistol joined it. . . . 
Jennifer, of course, and firing right through a clip in 
machine-gun fashion. The shouting outside grew in 
volume. There was some firing of guns from the 
Indians and Paul fancied he heard the thud of mis¬ 
siles against the walls. Then the shouting died down. 
Then the shooting stopped. The world was uncan¬ 
nily silent. 

Jennifer’s heels came tapping down the stairs. She 
came into the church, her face bright with elation. 

‘^That drove them off,” she smiled. ^^Bevis want’s 
a drink—hot work up there. And then we must try 
and get some sort of breakfast.” 

^^But ivhat happened?” asked Paul. 

^Wou get a splendid view from the belfry,” she 
said, ^^all round. They were bringing up a lot of tree 
trunks when Bevis opened fire. We think they meant 
to batter down the door and also lean the trunks 
207 



The Brute 


against the windows so that they conld run them up 
easily. They were too far away for Bevis to hit accu¬ 
rately with his pistol—that was why he wanted the 
Winchester. He’s an awfully good shot, Paul. First 
he put bullets into the trunks about a foot from 
the first man. Then when that didn’t stop them he 
shot the leading men through arms or legs. That 
raised the uproar. They tried to rush from all sides. 
. . . That’s why I took a hand. I didn’t hit any¬ 
one, but I helped that scared feeling along. Bevis 
got about five of them before they decided it was 
better to keep their distance. They have retired to 
the cacique^s hut for a council of war.” 

They were left alone until afternoon. The council 
of Indians went on solemnly. From the belfry they 
could see the sprawled little village of huts, some of 
them no more than palm-leaf roofs on corner-poles. 
Behind, the jungle came down greedily, as though 
eager to lick up in its wild life this village. At one 
corner of the village the river slipped by with a glitter 
that was indeed almost gold, like its name. From 
iheir vantage i>ost they could see why the Indians 
had every reason to be angry. Each canoe had been 
sunk at its moorings, not even a couple of clumsy 
freight batelao had been spared. Ralph Felton had 
been at least thorough in his villainy. 

Just before noon they saw a stir amid the Indians, 
and a body of men went off into the jungle. But 
nothing further happened, for the rest of the village 
crawled into the shade as the heat of the siesta hour 
came down and went to sleep. Jennifer and Bevis 
208 



The Way of Cavalier os 


went to sleep, too, and Paul, on guard, was on the 
nod when suddenly groups of men appeared, one by 
one, from behind the houses and approached the 
church. They were unarmed, and the leaders held 
their hands above their heads in token of peace. Paul 
showed his gun, after calling down to the others, and 
bade the men stand at a distance. Two or three In¬ 
dians began to talk at once, making gestures, and 
on Bevis arriving in the belfry, Paul said: 

^^CanT make out what the deuce they want. They 
arenT dangerous as they arenT armed and haven’t 
any hope of getting through the windows. They may 
even be friendly. . . . Can you understand what 
they are jabbering about?” 

^^Kot a thing,” said Bevis. ^What are those cyl¬ 
inders they have in their hands?” 

^^Don’t know,” said Paul. ^^Thought it might be 
kerosene to burn us out, but they look like sections 
of bamboo. Seem harmless—might even be presents. 
... I say.” He brought his rifle up and fired. 
But too late. The Indians who had crowded closer 
and closer as their leaders had talked, abruptly 
started to action. Every man carrying a cylinder 
heaved it suddenly through the church windows. Then 
every man jack of the crowd bolted. 

From below they heard Jennifer cry out. And 
they waited with sick hearts for some sort of explo¬ 
sion. Nothing came. Why were these bombs (as 
they thought) so slow in detonating? Paul started 
down in the hope of doing something, he knew not 
what. He heard Jennifer laughing. 

209 



The Brute 


He came upon her at the bottom of the stairs. 

^^It’s absurd/’ she cried, ^^just ants.” 

^^Ants?” he cried, wondering if he had heard right. 

^^Look at them,” she said, pointing, ^^thousands of 
ants. All those things they threw in split as they hit 
the ground, and out came the ants. It’s very foolish. 
Do they expect ants to drive us into the open?” 

Paul looked into the church. It was true. Each 
of the canisters had contained ants, the big tucandeira 
ant that bites so savagely and quite frequently gives 
fever. They were swarming all over the floor, thou¬ 
sands of them—tens of thousands. Paul was almost 
amused at the sight—but not quite. He guessed the 
Indians had not thrown ants into the church for 
nothing. He ran up the steps to Bevis, but before 
he had got half-way he heard him firing. The Indians 
were attacking from all sides. They were screaming 
their war cries, firing into the church with their old 
guns, sending showers of arrows towards the belfry. 
Paul forgot about ants in the more urgent matter of 
the human attack. For over an hour he stood back 
to back with Bevis, stalling off threatening on¬ 
slaughts with a few, well-placed shots. Those shots 
were very persuasive, for the Indians showed a 
marked tendency to keep well out of range and under 
cover. They only ventured on a concerted attack 
when they thought the defense was growing less alert. 
Even these assaults were rather feeble and no attempt 
was made to push them home. Indeed, Paul and 
Bevis grew puzzled at their tactics, and Paul sud¬ 
denly said: “You know, they’re not really meaning 
210 



The Way of Cavalier os 


anything. They simply want to keep ns on the jig. 
They’re playing Avith us.” 

^^My opinion, too,” said Bevis. ^We’d better ease 
up or they’ll wear us out as well as make us fire off 
all our ammunition. By the way, what did they 
throw into the church?” 

^^Nothing of consequence,” said Paul. ^‘Just a few 
thousand ants. What their idea might be I don’t—” 

^^Ants,” cried Bevis, starting up. . . . 

At that moment Jennifer was calling to them. 

^Taul. . . . Bevis. . . . Our food. The ants 
are destroying it.” 

It was true. Paul and Bevis rushed down to the 
church, sending Jennifer up on guard. They saw 
that all the ants had concentrated on one spot. They 
were swarming over the store of food. A greedy, 
tigerish mass was fighting, burrowing and devouring 
their small stock of eatables. Paul was dismayed at 
the destruction they had wrought in even an hour. 
The food seemed to be vanishing piecemeal before 
their eyes as a stream of ants carried fragments out 
through a crevice in the wall. And he realized, too, 
that, having located the food and having found a way 
back to their nest, through that crevice, not merely 
the ants the Indians had flung into the church, but the 
whole local ant-colony was busy removing the plun¬ 
der. It seemed to Paul that hundreds of thousands 
of ants were at work removing the food. And he 
understood the whole plan of the Indians. The 
throwing of the ants into the church, the faked at¬ 
tacks to distract attention had all been for one end. 

211 



The Brute 


The Indians had aimed to destroy their food supply 
the quicker to starve them out. 

It was a very clever and a very ugly plan. In the 
few seconds in which Paul and Bevis recognized the 
intention of the Indians, they saw how near they 
were to disaster. With their food gone they would 
he completely at the mercy of the village in a few 
days, and the villagers need only sit down and wait 
for their defeat. Grasping the situation both men 
dashed at the food pile and strove to beat the ants off. 
It was useless. It was like an attempt to beat back 
the sea. Then they tried snatching packages and 
pieces of food from the dwindling pile, and running 
with them to the belfry. 

That was of little avail. The ants had burrowed 
into every package, and as they carried them, they 
dropped out and left a trail towards the belfry. And 
that trail was fatal. With the almost uncanny in¬ 
stinct of their kind the ants were on the track of the 
food, a stream of them immediately headed for the 
belfry. 

There was another thing, too. Both men were 
bitten, Bevis so savagely that he dropped his parcel. 
He warned Paul against this: ^^These are the ants 
of which the Brazilians say, ^Four bites from them 
bring death.’ I don’t think they can do that, but I 
know they can bring fever. I’ve seen it. . . . And 
we don’t want that.” 

^With Jennifer here—no,” said Paul. ^^But what 
are we going to do? If they get our food and we 
starve—that will bring death, too.” 

212 



The Way of Cavalier os 


might try some sort of fire ring,” said Bevis 
vaguely. But they never did. Jennifer shouted to 
them, and began firing rapidly. They had to run up 
to her to resist what looked like a real attack. It 
may not have been one, but only another demonstra¬ 
tion to distract them from the work of the ants. 
But it seemed so real that they felt certain that if 
the Indians saw any weakness they would take ad¬ 
vantage of it to force their way into the church. 

They had to fight the savages off, and as they 
fought, the swarms of ants destroyed the precious 
store of food beneath them. 



CHAPTER XXII 
FELTON PROVES HIMSELF 


B y five o^clock the fighting died down. But they 
had already guessed that this was because the 
Indians were certain of their fate. An ex¬ 
amination of the food pile made this apparent. The 
amazing ants had done their work well. Capable of 
stripping the carcass of a horse bare to the bones in 
a few hours, they had practically wiped out the food 
supply. The little garrison knew they were beaten. 
They could only discuss their chances of fighting their 
way out at night while realizing the hopelessness of 
it. With canoes they might have stood a sporting 
chance, without them they would have to take to the 
jungle where their own ignorance, and the woodsman 
skill of the Indians made it certain that they would 
be helpless victims. 

They crouched in the belfry staring down at an 
apparently peaceful village, where the arts of an idle 
life were going on serenely. They watched the women 
cooking, and tried not to react to the tantalizing 
odours of many meals that floated up to them. They 
realized that those odours were part of the savage 
plan, and that as their hunger grew they would suffer 
tortures that might well drive them into their enemy’s 
hands. 

About six o’clock, however, the peaceful picture 
214 


Felton Proves Himself 


gave place to another, one so exciting that suddenly 
they thrilled with hope. 

One of the Indians seemed to give the alarm, and 
there was much bustle and running towards that 
place where the trail left the dark womb of the 
jungle and entered the village clearing. All the 
braves snatched up their weapons and moved out as 
though to give battle; Indians in ones and twos slid 
into the darkness of the bush. There was a tingling 
atmosphere of fear and imminent fighting. 

Then men came quickly from the screen forest 
depths, spoke (quickly to the massed braves—and 
struck panic into them. There was a scurrying and 
fluttering of anxious men. Everywhere the Indians 
bolted back to huts and fires. Like magic all weapons 
disappeared and the Indians lolled with ostentatious 
peacefulness about their fires. The watchers thrilled. 
Jennifer almost called out in thanksgiving. To her 
this strange fear in the Indians meant only one thing. 
Only one man could have that powerful effect. ... 
Martin. 

Martin Sondes had followed them. Martin Son¬ 
des was riding up to the rescue. The force of his 
personality was already dominating the savages. 

Armed peons with donkeys and pack animals ap¬ 
peared at the edge of the jungle. . . . Martinis 
peons and donkeys, Jennifer was sure. A big man 
showed in the shadows. There was somehow a touch 
of the seafaring in his pose that made Jennifer's heart 
call—Martin! Martin! For a minute he stood sur¬ 
veying the village. Others rode up behind him. Two 
215 



The Brute 


others. With the briefest consultation one of the 
others took the lead, rode into the sunlight. 

They saw the long, thin, cadaverous figure of Ci- 
priano Bravo. The fat bulk of Pascobas lurched 
behind. The big man Jennifer had taken for Mar¬ 
tin was Gonzala, the captain of the Donna Diaha. 

With more apprehension than joy they watched 
the three ruffians ride at the head of their strong and 
well-armed train into the village. With a swagger 
Cipriano drew up at the hut of the cacique. As the 
Indian chief came cringing forward they could guess 
from his attitude Bravo’s ugly reputation. 

In twenty minutes the Latin-American party was 
before the church, and Jennifer, Bevis and Paul were 
leaving it. As Jennifer came out Cipriano stared at 
her with mocking gallantry, and, with wonderful 
grace, swung his hat from his saintlike head. 

^^Good day and the blessing of Heaven upon you, 
senhorita,” he said. ^Tt was written that I could not 
be separated long from one so lovely.” 

It was useless to attempt any sort of fight. Even 
Paul, the headstrong, saw that their position was 
hopeless. About them stood Cipriano’s men with 
weapons held ready, behind them the angry Indians. 
Cipriano, smiling, seemed to sense their thoughts. 
With the courtliness of a nobleman he begged to 
be allowed to relieve them of the burden of their 
weapons. There was no hope of resisting. They 
handed their guns over. 

^^There are things I do not understand, senhorita,” 
the rogue with the saint’s face went on. ^^This bad 
216 



Felton Proves Himself 


quarrel you liad with our good Senhor Martino, for 
instance.” 

^Who said that we quarrelled?” said Bevis curtly. 

^^Surely it must be that,” said the rogue. ^^Mar- 
tino would not leave you here without good reason.” 

Jennifer heard this rogue’s testimonial to Martin 
with burning cheeks. 

Pascobas said with a leer: ^‘There was another 
woman. The cacique says she went with the man. It 
is easy to understand all—she was very beautiful, 
too, that other one.” 

^^Ah, easy to see, senhorita,” said Cipriano, with his 
detestable smile, ^^how the beauty of your adorable 
sex makes willing victims of even the strongest of 
us.” 

Jennifer was shocked to realize that they thought 
Martin had fallen a victim to Lilias’s seductions. 
Shocked to discover that they thought it was Martin 
who had bolted with the canoes and left them in the 
lurch. She was about to speak when the big seaman, 
Gonzala, said: 

‘^Even for a woman or for profit, Martin Sondes 
would not take canoes without payment, nor coerce 
four Indians to work for him against their will. That 
is not the man.” 

^^No,” said Jennifer firmly. ^‘That was not Martin 
Sondes. That was another man who joined our party. 
Martin Sondes left us three days before we reached 
this village.” 

^^So, you sent him away as early as that,” said 
Cipriano. ^‘Well, that is a happy omen for us, at 
217 



The Brute 


least.’’ His wolfisli eyes dwelt upon her lingeringly. 
‘^It places upon me the happy duty of caring for 
beauty in the wilderness.” 

‘^Need this talk go any further?” asked Bevis in 
a harsh voice. ‘‘We have told you all there is to tell, 
senhor.” 

“Perhaps you are right,” the ruffian sneered. “Later 
we will expand our friendship in greater charm.” 
His beautiful eyes stared straight into Jennifer’s with 
a meaning that chilled and frightened. “Now, busi¬ 
ness must come before even the call of loveliness. 
There is the little matter of the gold you carried to 
discuss. Our first thoughts, naturally were for its 
safety in so barbarous a place. But, since we have 
looked through your baggage we have perceived that 
you, too, had that wise idea, and have hidden it 
securely. One would therefore respectfully ask you 
to lead us to that place so that we can be assured of 
its security.” 

Jennifer’s lips tightened as the man spoke. Bevis, 
recognizing that Cipriano was not one to be played 
with, said quietly: “The money is gone, senhor. We 
no longer have it.” 

Cipriano stared at them for a full minute. They 
saw the beauty of his face slowly give way to lines 
of tigerish cruelty. With eyes narrow and glittering, 
he said softly: “You do not understand me, senhor. 
I am asking for that money. I will get that money. 
I have methods quite infallible for extracting infor¬ 
mation.” 

They could not doubt it. Cipriano Bravo would 
218 



Felton Proves Himself 


not hesitate to torture them in order to get the secret 
of the money’s hiding place—if he thought it were 
hidden. 

Jennifer shuddered. Bevis said as quietly as the 
ruffian: ^^Senhor mistakes my utterance. When I 
say we no longer have the money, I am telling you 
that it has been taken from us.” 

Cipriano’s eyes blazed: ^^Taken! You mean it has 
been stolen.” 

Jennifer made as though to speak, but it was no 
time to shield Felton. Bevis said firmly: ^^That is 
the truth. It has been stolen—all of it.” 

^Tah!” snarled Gonzala. ^^This is but a trick. 
Who would steal it? Never Martin Sondes.” 

Again Jennifer winced at this testimony from a 
rogue to Martin’s uprightness. She found herself 
defending Martin. 

^^Certainly it was not Senhor Martino,” she said. 

‘Jt was that man who has gone off and left us. . . . 
That man and the woman.” 

“And you would have us go after them, and you 
would then get away,” sneered Cipriano, his hot eyes 
on her. “We do not believe that story so very 
quickly.” 

“Then you must be a fool,” snapped Bevis hotly. 
“Do you think we would have waited here—for you, 
with the money if we could have helped it?” 

“I have seen that all the canoes are sunk, and 
that would have been a hindrance,” Pascobas snig¬ 
gered. 

“Who sunk them but a thief anxious not to be 
219 



The Brute 


pursued?^’ said Bevis. went off last night with 

the money and the other woman, leaving ns—who did 
not want to face you—to face yon and the angry 
Indians. Don’t yon see the truth of it?” 

‘^It is certainly logical,” said Cipriano with a cruel 
bitterness. He exchanged a few words with the 
cacique of the village, whose vehemence and rage in 
reply obviously confirmed all Paul had said. The 
ruffian turned slow eyes on the girl again: ‘^And 
who is this strange robber who joins your party so 
easily and unexpectedly, does all the bargaining with 
the cacique here, and then vanishes so readily with 
your money?” 

^^He is a man we came to rescue from jail in Sen- 
zala,” said Bevis quietly. ^^The money was to bribe 
the jailers, but Senhor Martino managed to effect 
his escape without bribing. Benhor Martino then 
left us, and the rescued man brought us here to get 
canoes for San An jo. But he went off and left us, 
as you see.” 

^^Again it sounds logical,” said Cipriano bitterly. 
^Who is this man who takes what Cipriano Bravo 
wanted?” 

^^His name would mean nothing to you. It is Eng¬ 
lish, Konald Buckingham.” 

logical,’ he says,” Gonzala burst out. ^^An Eng¬ 
lishman has stolen, he says. Pah! I do not believe 
it. Do sane people fondle a serpent? And if they 
do, do they close their eyes to the fact that nature 
intends it to bite? Can you expect us to credit you 
to be the boon companions of thieves.” 

220 



Felton Proves Himself 


did not know/’ began Bevis. was a man 

we had known. ...” 

^^He was my half-brother, that is why he was with 
us,” said Jennifer, too proud to shield her shame be¬ 
hind silence or ambiguity; too proud to realize that, 
as Bevis Probyn’s gesture warned, her words were 
rash. 

^^So—” said Cipriano in a silky voice, and that 
voice seemed to have lost its respect as his eyes had 
become bold. ^^So—the sister of a rascal? Only 
that, after all. But of course—most beautiful.” 

His tone was ominous. He was talking, they felt, 
to an equal, even an inferior. And since that in¬ 
ferior was beautiful, and he was a Latin-American 
male whose regard for women was of Oriental 
condition, the unpleasant intention of his interest was 
manifest. Pascobas noted it and leered. Only Gon- 
zala was a little perturbed, not because Cipriano was 
amative, but because he was in danger of being un¬ 
businesslike. 

^^You will not forget,” he growled, ^‘that she is un¬ 
doubtedly rich. There may be profit in that, even 
though we have lost the money.” 

^^Cipriano does not forget,” breathed the other, not 
taking his eyes off Jennifer who, though frightened, 
maintained a firm dignity. ^^Eich—and there are 
ways through the heart, even, of tasting these riches.” 

Bevis Probyn almost risked striking the fellow 
down, for he thought he understood his meaning. 
Martin had warned them that a girl like Jennifer 
might be held for ransom, but Cipriano was hinting 
221 



The Brute 


at something more unlovely. Bevis remembered that 
Latin-American law laid it down that upon marriage 
the estates of the husband and wife became one, to 
be shared and controlled equally. Was this brute 
thinking along these lines? No good saying it was 
incredible, that such a marriage could not happen. 
They were not supported by civilized safeguards now, 
but in the wilds of South America where anything 
could happen, and at the mercy of an utterly reckless 
scoundrel who acknowledged no law save that which 
he himself dictated. 

It was with difficulty that Bevis held his hands 
and maintained an air of calmness under this hint of 
horror. It was for the sake of all their lives that he 
kept himself in hand, though he cursed himself for 
ever letting Martin leave the party. He should have 
joined Paul in insisting that Martin should stay, even 
though it meant an open rupture with Jennifer. 

And Jennifer, too, was feeling that Martin’s going 
was a fatal mistake. She had imperilled not merely 
herself, but these two staunch men beside her. She 
felt instinctively the ghastly plan Cipriano had in 
his mind, and she knew, too, that it might cause the 
death of Bevis and Paul in resisting it. Nevertheless, 
she kept her high courage, and deliberately turning 
her back on Cipriano, said to Bevis: 

leave you to discuss matters with this person. 
He does not seem to know how to bear himself before 
a woman.” 

Cipriano threw back his head and laughed, the 
noiseless laugh of a wolf. 

222 



Felton Proves Himself 


^^So, she has spirit—but that is how I like women.’^ 
His hand went out as she passed him, caught her 
slim wrist and wrenched her round so that they stood 
face to face. shall tame you/’ he said, ^^and adore 
you in taming; you will whisper softly and sweetly 
enough in good time.” 

He felt something snatch at his side, felt the big 
bulk of a man beside him. He glared sidelong, and 
into Paul’s eyes. And as he met that angry and de¬ 
termined glance he felt the prick of a knife point just 
under the base of his ribs. And Paul Glen’s voice 
said harshly: 

‘^This is your knife I have in my hand. You your¬ 
self know its capacities for going deep. Let that lady 
go.” 

Cipriano tried to stare Paul down. He failed. 

‘^You are asking to be cut to pieces by my men?” 
he snarled. 

^What matter? You will be dead first. Loose 
your hand.” The voice suddenly grew sharp, impera¬ 
tive. ^^Do you hear? Let that lady go. And do 
not move.” 

Cipriano made no mistake. He glared, but he let 
Jennifer go. And he stood rigid. That knife was 
against his body, ready to be pushed home by a 
strong hand at the slightest movement. When Jen¬ 
nifer had gained her hut, Paul stood back and handed 
Cipriano his knife. 

The man stared, and then smiled. 

recognize and admire the courage of that ac¬ 
tion, senhor,” he said gracefully, ^‘but in the abstract 
223 



The Brute 


alone. It pains me that your brave gesture will avail 
you nothing. In my avocation it is well recognized 
that brave men are admirable—^but dangerous. And 
that dangerous men are best dead. And there are 
two of you. You will realize that it is merely wis¬ 
dom to remove you.^^ He put his knife back into its 
sheath, drew his pistol. ^^Are you agnostics, senhors, 
or do you pray? You have two minutes to regain or 
confirm your faith.’’ 

Pascobas, breathing heavily, touched his arm. 

^Tolly, Cipriano. If the girl is rich, it is obvious 
that these English milords are rich also. They have 
families which would pay to have them preserved in¬ 
tact. Why be wasteful? 

‘Wes, there is that,” said Cipriano hesitating. “But 
no—while they live they will be a constant anxiety. 
You know what these English are. They are never 
content to remain prisoners quietly—especially when 
there is a woman to rescue. It will free us from 
much uncertainty to be finished with them.” 

He balanced his pistol delicately, waiting for the 
end of the two minutes. Paul and Bevis, very white 
and breathing quietly, awaited their end. 

Bevis, facing the river, said in a shaking voice: 

“Heavens, the canoes are coming back.” 

All swung to face the river. Gonzala said with an 
accent almost of relief: “It is so, by the saints. They 
are heading here.” 

“They are not the canoes we want,” said Cipriano. 
“See, only Indians are in them.” 

“But see, too,” cried Pascobas, “that there are four 
224 



Felton Proves Himself 


Indians and they are in the first canoe only. While 
the second, which they tow, is empty. Santa Bar¬ 
bara, this has but one meaning. Those are the 
canoes in which the thief and that woman escaped 
with the money.’’ 

^^There is no doubt about it,” said Gonzala. ^Ter- 
haps you will cease play-acting now, Cipriano.” 

Cipriano was already carried away by excitement. 
He forgot all about Paul and Bevis and hurried to 
the river bank. Paul found that he was trembling 
now that a respite had been granted them. 

The Indians who came in the canoes were, indeed, 
the men Felton had forced to take him down to San 
Anjo. 

They told how in the dead of night and at the 
pistol point they had been driven to load the canoes 
with heavy packets and forced to paddle at a great 
pace down the river. In the early morning light, 
exhausted, they had landed on an island in the middle 
of the broad stream, and Felton had driven them 
harshly to make a fire, boil water and cook food. 

This had been the undoing of Felton and Lilias. 
The Indians, angered by their treatment, were de¬ 
termined to escape. One of them, a fisherman, car¬ 
ried in his girdle some root of a plant the natives 
throw into lagoons when they want to stupefy fish 
and catch them. 

The root was put into the boiling coffee and quite 
soon the man and the woman were unconscious, stupe¬ 
fied by the drug. There was nothing fatal about it; 
they were simply robbed of their senses for a few 
225 



The Brute 


hours. While they were in that condition the Indians 
took the canoes and returned upstream to their 
village. 

On hearing this Cipriano ran to the canoes to get 
the packets of money. They were not there. In a 
blaze of anger he turned on the Indians demanding 
what they had done with them. He was further en¬ 
raged when he was told the packets had been left on 
the island with the drugged man and woman. The 
Indians would not steal anything from white men. 
They knew from experience that that would mean a 
fire-boat coming up from San Anjo and firing into 
and burning their village. 

As the Indians explained this Cipriano struck the 
leader to the earth, and was about to shoot the man 
when Gonzala interfered. 

^Wou are being senseless/’ he growled. ‘Tf these 
men left the runaways on the island and brought away 
the canoes they must still be there—with the money.” 

^Tah!” snarled Cipriano, ^They will have escaped.” 

^^Not if the stream is broad—and there are alli¬ 
gators about,” said Gonzala. 

He asked the Indians if this was not the case, and 
was told that escape was impossible from the island. 
Not only were there alligators in the broad waters 
between the island and the main banks, but the river 
was also full of piranha, the cannibal fish that will 
tear a human being to pieces. The fugitives were as 
secure on the island as though they were barred in a 
prison. There was nothing on the island to help them 
reach the river bank. 


226 



Felton Proves Himself 


Cipriano immediately ordered two of the Indians 
back into the first canoe. 

will go and pluck this fruit waiting so ripely 
for us/’ he said. ^^Pascobas had better come with us, 
for he is unreliable as a guard, yet sometimes useful 
as a navigator. You, Gonzala, who have a firm hand, 
will take charge of our captives. Watch them well. 
If you should have reason to shoot the two men, I 
shall not be greatly afflicted. But the woman—re¬ 
member that, in addition to being beautiful, she is 
also rich. Be warned that I hold you responsible, 
Gonzala, and I am not a man to warn lightly.” 

His terrible and saintly smile was fixed for a mo¬ 
ment on Gonzala, and even that redoubtable brute 
flinched under it. Cipriano Bravo was not the most- 
feared scoundrel in these lands for nothing. Cipriano 
himself knew how he was appreciated. His smile 
deepened as he took his place in a canoe. 

They watched the two canoes out of sight; then 
Bevis and Paul joined Jennifer, who had come out 
of her shack, explaining to her what had happened. 
They could give her the story fully because Cipriano 
had acted as interpreter for the sake of Pascobas, who 
could not understand the Indians’ dialect. 

^^How long will they be away,” asked Jennifer. 

^^Until tomorrow midday, at least,” said Bevis. 
don’t suppose they’ll get to the island before dawn.” 

‘^And us?” said Jennifer. ^‘Can we do anything?” 

They looked about them, at the dagos, who sat 
apparently not greatly interested, but with their 
weapons ready in their hands. 

227 



The Brute 


afraid we can’t do anything/’ said Bevis. 
‘^It’s shooting if we attempt to bolt, and even if we 
escape we’ll be greenhorns, unarmed and unskilled, 
lost in the jungle.” 

^^Even that,” said Jennifer with a shudder, ^Vill 
be better than facing that man again.” 

^^That’s so,” said Bevis slowly, but not very hope¬ 
fully. ^We must keep our wits about us. If any 
chance arises we must take it.” 

Paul suggested, with a desperate effort of opti¬ 
mism : 

^Terhaps Cipriano won’t come back. Felton is 
armed. He won’t give himself up cheaply.” 

Jennifer answered with a sudden and extraordinary 
bitterness: 

^^No, he won’t fight. Not he. You can’t count on 
any help from him.” 

The men were stricken silent by this abrupt revela¬ 
tion of her appreciation of her half-brother’s real 
character. She went on as though she recognized 
that she owed them an apology. 

can’t ask you to forgive me for bringing this 
trouble upon you. I see it was my fault now. I be¬ 
lieved a man who was entirely untrustworthy instead 
of one who was entirely reliable. I think, though I 
was wrong-headed, that I always knew in my heart, 
that if Martin Sondes did hunt Ralph Felton down, 
as Ralph declared, he had good reason.” 

^^Good heavens!” cried Paul, for he had not realized 
this. ^‘So that’s why you turned on him, Jenni- 
228 



Felton Proves Himself 


fer? I wish I’d known that, for I’d have told yoii 
straight-” 

^^I guessed as much, Jennifer,” Probyn said quietly. 
‘^But only on the day he left us.” 

^ J wanted to tell you what Felton was,” said Paul. 
‘^Only—only-” 

^^Only Martin Sondes wouldn’t let you,” Jennifer 
answered. ^‘1 know. That is the sort of man he is. 
He allowed me to think the worst of him rather than 
that I—a silly, headstrong, little fool—should suffer. 
I’m beginning to understand him. But—but I wish 
he had spoken out straight.” 

^Would you have listened, Jennifer?” Bevis Probyn 
asked. She stared, coloured a little. 

You’re right, Bevis,” she said quietly. ‘^He was 
right. He understood me. I wouldn’t have listened. 
What a little fool I’ve been.” 

^Tt’s no good dwelling on that,” said Probyn. 
^We’ve got the present to consider.” 

struck him—struck him on the face,” she said, 
with a half sob. ^^And all the time he was only think¬ 
ing of me, protecting me. Well, I deserve all I get.” 

^^He wouldn’t subscribe to that,” Bevis told her. 
^^Meanwhile, we’ve got to keep stiff upper-lips, and be 
ready to seize any chance.” 

^Wes,” she said. ^^And don’t be afraid for me, you 
two dears. If anything, it is going to be easiest for 
me.” 

^^Easiest!” Bevis exclaimed, raising his brows, 
am not unarmed,” she said softly. ^^They 
229 





The Brute 


haven’t taken my small revolver from me. If the 
worst comes to the worst-” 

They stared at her in horror and understanding, 
pale and fearful, yet both recognizing that Jennifer 
must be prepared to face this last grim extremity. 

As they stared, Gonzala rolled across to them with 
two armed men at his heels. 

^^Senhors,” he said quietly, ^^you must stop talking 
with the senhorita now. You must go to a hut at the 
end of the village.” 

The two men regarded him with chilled hearts. 
They had already decided that Gonzala had, accord¬ 
ing to his lights, a certain seamanlike decency. They 
also realized that he could be quite ruthless and was 
not to be trifled with. He meant to separate them, 
and that meant that their chance of escaping was not 
merely lessened, but—since they would not think of 
leaving Jennifer behind—made almost impossible. 
Gonzala smiled courteously but implacably. 

‘Tt is not pleasant to one of my nature to shoot, 
or even to order the shooting of unarmed men, 
senhors,” he announced. ‘T beg of you to give me no 
reason for performing so distasteful a task.” 

He stared at them once again, turned, and led the 
way to the hut that was to be their prison. 




CHAPTER XXIII 
INTOLERABLE SAMARITANS 

EELTON and Lilias Seyler recovered 
^ from the effects of the drug about five o'clock, 
only to find themselves marooned on their 
island. It was only when they found that they had 
been tricked and deserted by the Indians that Lilias 
began to realize the true character of Felton. 

She had, perhaps, at first joined forces with him 
because she was not popular with the others, and she 
saw in him a way both of annoying her companions 
and effecting an escape from them. Queerly, how¬ 
ever, what was at first a mocking friendship had grad¬ 
ually changed, as the fascination that Ralph Felton 
had exerted over many women held her under a spell. 
This queer magnetism seemed not only to rob her of 
a critical faculty that would have been damaging to 
him in the ordinary way, but actually to put her 
under a hypnotic influence. She shared with him his 
anger against Jennifer, because Jennifer would not 
stoop to robbing the Indians. She felt no sense of 
guilt when they ran off in the night leaving the others 
at the mercy of the Indians. It was true that she 
did not know that the rest of the canoes had been 
sunk, or, until they were well on the way, that Ralph 
Felton had stolen the money, for he had not called 
her from the hut until he was ready to start. But 
231 


The Brute 


even when she realized he had the money, her spell¬ 
bound conscience did not rebel. Jennifer was a rich 
woman, the loss of the money would mean little to 
her, and, anyhow, she had been prepared to spend all 
of it on Kalph for bribes. . . . He was simply get¬ 
ting direct what would have been his indirectly. 

She was not actually worried by the moral side, 
particularly as she felt that the others had merely to 
follow them downstream in canoes to San Anjo; thus 
at first she was inclined to treat this being marooned 
on an island as part of a bold and gay adventure. 
She declared that they weren^t going to be beaten by 
a set of mangy Indians, or anyone else. They could 
deal with the situation triumphantly. Felton snarled 
at her and told her not to be a romantic fool. 

But she persisted in being a romantic fool. She 
hoped to win back his good humour that way. She 
said it would all be very simple. They would hide 
the money in some cunning place, so that they could 
come back and find it at their leisure. And when they 
had concealed it they would make the mainland. 

‘T can swim, and I^m sure you can, Ralph,’’ she 
said. ^We’ll put our clothes in a bundle on our heads 
and swim across in the authentic story-book way.” 

He glared at her with a sour and savage sneer. 

‘^Yes, you’re a fool,” he snarled. ‘^See that log over 
there.” 

^^Good,” cried Lilias softly. ‘^You’ve solved the 
business with your quicker brain, Ralph. That’ll 
ferry us across.” 

^Tt will,” Felton snapped. “Inside! It’s an alli- 
232 



Intolerable Samaritans 


gator. The river swarms with them. And look at 
this-’’ 

He picked np a piece of meat and threw it out into 
the stream. For a moment it floated. Then the water 
all about it was beaten into a mad flurry. Hundreds 
of small fish seemed to be fighting to get at that meat, 
hurling themselves on it and snapping at it like hun¬ 
gry wolves. 

‘The piranha,’’ sneered Ealph. “They’d find you a 
tender morsel, Lilias. They’d tear you to pieces with 
tiny bites of razor-edged teeth. Feel inclined for that 
swim?” 

Lilias, staring at that furious exhibition of canni¬ 
balism, staring at the loglike alligators, was appalled. 
Ralph Felton went on in a whining, peevish voice— 
a voice that told Lilias he was shaking with fear: 

“We’re trapped, that’s the long and the short of it. 
Those cursed Indians doped us in this very place, 
knowing we couldn’t get away. Trapped! What a 
darn fool I was to bring a woman along I” He glared 
at Lilias. “It’s your fault. If it hadn’t been for you 
I’d have made ’em go on. Driven ’em on until I was 
safe. Just you wanting to stop an’ flirt an’ be roman¬ 
tic on an island-” 

Lilias stared at him, revolted. 

“Don’t rail like an imbecile,” she said, curtly; “use 
your mind. We’ll get off if you only think how. 
What about pushing that fallen tree trunk into the 
river and floating across on it?” 

He eyed her with sly, foxy eyes 

“And in the middle of the stream you lose your 
233 




The Brute 


nerve, and overbalance us, and the alligators and the 
piranha get us. Pretty idea, that!’^ 

^Terhaps you have a better!’’ she said curtly. 

His pale eyes were watching her every moment. 

^^We’ll go round the island,” he said. ^We may 
find something. Sometimes there’s a strand of 
creeper as strong as a cable hanging across the river. 
Or there might be a more practicable trunk in the 
water. Anyhow, we’ll walk round, and find out how 
we are situated. You go to the left. I’ll go to the 
right.” 

Lilias had not gone ten yards before she realized 
what walking in the real, pathless jungle meant. 
After fighting her way over slimy mangue roots, and 
struggling in a swamp that came up to her knees, 
she turned and glanced back—and could not trace the 
way she had come. She seemed lost, caged. Through 
leaves on one side she saw the brown, sediment-thick 
water of the river sliding by with an oily ripple. On 
every other side the great trees, with their dripping 
curtain of vines, formed a living wall. It seemed to 
her that there was no possible way through that wall. 
And yet she had come through. 

The silence was thick, damp, hot; it weighed down 
upon her and filled her with a sudden terror. She 
had never encountered silence so intense. It un¬ 
nerved her. And then in the midst of that silence she 
heard, not a man forcing his way through the bush, 
but a man swearing softly just behind her. 

He swore and grunted like one exerting all his 
strength. He muttered: ^^Come up, you brute,” softly, 
234 



Intolerable Samaritans 


but so intense was the silence that she seemed to hear 
the words at her side. There was a sound of scuffling, 
a tearing of vines, then a heavy, sullen splash. Lilias’s 
face suddenly became grim and white; she turned in 
her tracks and went back as silently as she could. At 
the edge of the clearing which she had left she stopped 
and looked through the leaves. 

It was as she had thought. Kalph Felton had 
levered the tree trunk she had pointed out into the 
river. The current was already dragging at it, though 
one end was anchored in the mud. Felton was busy 
collecting the packets of money. There was no mis¬ 
taking the haste of his movements. He was anxious 
to get away, with the money and food, before she 
completed the circuit of the island. He meant to 
leave her marooned there. 

She stepped out on him when he had his hands full 
of packets. 

^‘So that was your bright thought!’’ she cried. 
^‘You intended to slip away while I was lost in the 
jungle! As you said just now, a pretty idea!” 

He stared at her, his eyes shifty and cruel. He 
said: 

^^Hallo! Glad you’re back! Suddenly occurred to 
me to try that suggestion of yours. I think it’ll work, 
after all, you know.” 

^‘For both of us?” she enquired drily. 

‘^Of course,” he said, with a show of enthusiasm. 

thought I’d ferry the money and stuff over on this 
trunk, and then come back for you.” 

She came towards him. 

235 



The Brute 


know exactly what you intended to do/^ she said. 
^^You needn’t lie!” 

^‘Then I won’t!” he snapped. ^^You’re right. I’m 
not going to cumber myself with any fool woman. 
You’re darn well going to stay here, and I’m going 
off on that log!” 

^^I think not,” she said softly. 

He dropped all his parcels and grabbed at his pistol. 
But she had expected that. Before he could reach his 
weapon her own pistol was covering him. 

^^No you don’t, Ealph!” she said. ‘‘I’m a pretty 
good shot, and as close as this you’re an easy mark. 
Put your hands above your head and turn about.” 

He spat a refusal, and she loosed a shot that tore 
by his ears. He sprang round like a cat, his knees 
shaking, his hands aloft. 

“You’re the worst specimen of cur I’ve ever met!” 
she told him. “No wonder Martin Sondes considers 
you’re best wiped off the earth.” 

She went up to him to take the pistol from his 
pocket. He shifted a little so that the removal was 
difficult, and she had to drop her own pistol-hand to 
get at his weapon. He had played for that; he 
snatched at her arm and tried to tear the pistol away. 
For the moment he had her at a disadvantage, but 
she was a strong woman, and fought him off. He 
attacked her with utter brutality, and without the 
slightest show of manliness. He gripped her by the 
throat, and it would have gone ill with her—^but sud¬ 
denly she laughed in his face. 

236 



Intolerable Samaritans 


are fighting for nothing!’^ she cried. ^^Look 
at your log 

Felton looked at the water aghast. The log had 
been carried out into the river, was already swinging 
to follow the current. He ran to the bank and plunged 
into the stream towards the log. He floundered waist 
high, then suddenly shot down into a mud hole. It 
was Lilias’s hand that plucked him out, and dragged 
him scrambling to the bank. As she helped him her 
hand went down to his hip, and came away with his 
pistol. 

He raged when he saw how completely she had him 
at her mercy. 

^^That was the only likely log, the only chance of 
escape we had!’^ he gasped. ^‘You and your foolery 
have marooned us! Understand that? We’re help¬ 
less here.” 

He would blame her, she saw that. He would 
always blame somebody else for the results of his own 
evil acts. His mind had become utterly warped by 
vice, and she could see that even his hate for Martin 
Sondes was genuinely inspired—though that inspira¬ 
tion was his own scoundrelism. 

He sat sullen through the evening. He did not even 
stir himself when Lilias made up a great fire. Mght 
came on and Lilias moved to a high part of the bank 
where she could command him as he sat in the blaze. 
She could see that his foxy eyes were creeping towards 
her every now and then. He was making some ugly 
plan to get rid of her. Lilias laughed softly to her¬ 
self. She could be as cunning as he, and teach him 
237 



The Brute 


a lesson into the bargain. As the fire began to fiicker 
low she pretended to sink into sleep. In a short time 
he rose and moved stealthily towards her. She 
laughed softly again, waited until he had drawn level 
with the pile of dead wood she had collected, and said: 

^^Sorry to dash your hopes, Kalph. I^m fully 
awake. You might work off your rage by throwing 
some logs on the fire. A few at a time, please, so as 
they will burn brightly.’’ 

He stood snarling and mowing at her. Cursing her 
with a hateful stream of language. 

^^That’s enough,” she snapped. ^Tut those logs on 
the fire.” 

^^I’ll see you damned first,” he said. 

Her pistol spoke. 

Again the bullet tore close enough to him to make 
him realize that she could handle the weapon effec¬ 
tively. He lunged for the woodpile; hesitated; heard 
her cool voice say: ^‘The next will disable you, Kalph. 
That seems the only way to keep you helpless.” He 
began to pile on the logs. 

He sat by the blaze all night, sullen and unspeak¬ 
ing, but obeying in a craven way her every command 
to keep the fire bright. Lilias sat sleepless, watching 
him. There was an absolute disgust in her regard. 
It seemed to her that he had reached the lowest depths 
of human ignominy. He was without a decent fibre 
in his composition; he was utterly incapable of any¬ 
thing save meanness. 

It was, as Bevis had guessed, dawn before Cipriano 
and the canoes came in sight. At first, as with Jenni- 
238 



Intolerable Samaritans 


fer in the church, they had a thrill of hope. Ralph 
thought these might be ordinary voyagers, and he 
began to warn Lilias to act circumspectly and not to 
give a hint as to the money. 

Lilias said contemptuously: ^^You can save your 
breath. It is Cipriano Bravo, and others of his gang 
of thieves.” 

He sprang to his feet, shaking, staring round like a 
trapped animal. 

^^They mustn’t catch us, Gonzala will be with 
them,” he shrilled. ^^We’ve got to get away.” 

^^Only we can’t,” said Lilias. She tossed one of the 
pistols across to him. “You’ve got to fight.” 

He stared, shrinking. 

“Too many,” he cried, “too many!” 

“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “We have no 
choice.” 

He turned as though to run. 

“If we left the money,” he cried, “they’d take it— 
be satisfied—leave us alone! I’m for the bush!” 

“If you move,” she said with a fierce snarl, “I’ll 
shoot you! If you won’t fight, you won’t run either!” 

“Don’t be senseless, Lilias!” he whined. “You don’t 
know what these devils will do to us if they catch us!” 

“Stay just where you are, and remember you are 
well in my line of fire!” She lifted her voice to the 
canoes, now hovering close. “Senhor Cipriano!” she 
called. 

“Senhorita!” came back Cipriano’s voice. “It is 
you, safe! I am overjoyed that I can effect your 
rescue!” 


239 



The Brute 


^^1 am here, senhor,” said Lilias grimly, ^ Veil under 
cover and with a pistol pointed at your chest. I think 
that several of its ten shots may hit you—if that is 
necessary. It will not be necessary, if you grant me 
a favour.’’ 

‘^Ladies have only to speak, and Cipriano Bravo 
runs to obey,” he answered. 

^^It is good!” she cried. ^We are here, I and the 
half-brother of the lady back in the village. The 
money is also here, intact. For my goodwill in not 
shooting you dead, I ask that a safe passage be given 
both of us back to our companions.” 

^^No!” cried Felton hoarsely. ^^Don’t make it that. 
Demand a safe passage to the river bank only.” 

^^Back to our companions,” Lilias answered grimly. 
^Will you concede that, Senhor Cipriano?” 

^Tt is so easy that I could ask for something more 
difficult, beauteous senhorita.” 

^Tt is all I ask. You will give me your word as a 
cavalier 0 

^^To carry you as far as your companions in the 
Indian village—no more?” 

^^That is all.” 

^Tt is granted at once, senhorita.” 

At Lilias’s signal the canoes shot towards the shore 
and the ruffians landed. Kalph Felton did not even 
attempt resistance. He surrendered his pistol, he 
watched the money being loaded, he obeyed Cipriano’s 
order to join him in his canoe with cringing obedience. 
Lilias, from the other canoe, watched him with loath- 
240 



Intolerable Samaritans 


ing, her eyes were fully open to him now. Her de¬ 
mand that he should he carried hack to their com¬ 
panions was an act of reparation for her folly. If 
Jennifer and Bevis and Paul were to suffer for their 
baseness—Ealph Felton would suffer with them. 



CHAPTER XXIV 


THE MAROONED 


IPRIANO BRAVO had ordered Ralph Felton 



into his canoe with deliberate intention. His 


triumphant recovery of the money had in¬ 
flamed his greed and stimulated a bold idea that had 
been growing within him since he flrst looked upon 
Jennifer’s beauty. Ruthless, pitiless, insatiably ava¬ 
ricious, recognizing that there was none to oppose his 
will in this wild land, his ambition, incredible though 
it would appear to civilized minds, seemed to him but 
natural. Indeed, the whole thing appeared to him 
providentially arranged. 

The presence of Jennifer’s half-brother seemed but 
another indication that providence was working for 
Cipriano Bravo’s ends. 

He had assessed the character of Ralph Felton in¬ 
stantly. He knew him to be a creature so craven and 
mean-spirited that he would descend to any depths 
to save his skin. A threat would make this cur a 
willing ally. Indeed, it was already making him 
that; even as Felton sat cringing in the canoe he was 
trying to ingratiate himself with the saint-faced cut¬ 
throat. 

Cipriano said: ^Ht is strange that you should run 
away from your half-sister as you did.” 


242 


The Marooned 


^^She was so obstinate, senbor,” the man whined. 
^^She would dally over negotiations with the Indians 
—that was perilous, naturally.’’ 

‘^But to desert one of one’s own blood?” 

^^That means little, senhor. She is but my half- 
sister. We were never truly sympathetic. And I 
have not seen her for many years—she is almost a 
stranger.” 

^^She is, however, very charming, very beautiful.” 
Cipriano said this deliberately, letting the words sink 
in Felton’s consciousness with intent. 

Felton dropped his sly eyes under the meaning 
look. If he had any disgust at the intention behind 
that remark, it was swamped, in the short pause that 
followed, by a surge of hope. Ealph Felton saw, daz- 
zlingly, that here might be a way to save his skin— 
as Cipriano had intended he should see. 

He said: brother would be less aware of that 

charm and beauty than a discriminating cavaliero 
like yourself, senhor.” 

^^I confess that the mere sight of her beauty con¬ 
quers me, senhor,” said Cipriano. ^^She is very de¬ 
sirable.” 

Ealph Felton gulped, not in horror but in hope. 

^^That is truly a noble sentiment, senhor,” he said 
slyly. 

^Wou are with me in that?” said Cipriano, and his 
eyes firmly invited an alliance. 

think that such a worthy emotion should be for¬ 
warded,” said Felton, taking his chance with both 
hands. 


243 



The Brute 


is satisfactory/’ said Cipriano. ^fThe senhorita 
is beautiful—she is also rich?” 

^^Very rich/’ said Felton with haste. 

‘^How rich?” 

Felton told him—eloquently. He was perhaps 
oyerlavish, but he felt that for his own sake it was 
better so. He did not belittle details. His descrip¬ 
tion of Jennifer’s wealth was the description almost 
of a millionairess. He told of estates in the country 
and houses in toAvn. He spoke of stocks and shares, 
of jewels, motor cars, plate, servants and all the other 
trappings of unstinted luxury. And his picture was 
convincing. Before he had half finished he had 
Cipriano breathless and bright-eyed with greed. 

‘^It is superb,” said the cutthroat. ^^And all that 
is her own?” 

^‘Her very own, to control as she wills.” 

‘^But you are her brother?” 

^^Her half-brother. Not a penny of that wealth is 
mine to handle. My step-father left all to her. He 
might have made me rich, but he ignored me and left 
me penniless.” 

^^He knew you, undoubtedly, yet even he could not 
remove the fact that his daughter was the sister of 
a thief,” said Cipriano with slow satisfaction, and 
Ralph Felton with a cringing gulp swallowed even 
that. ^ Jt is a very grave drawback to a marriageable 
girl. But a noble-minded man would overlook it,” 
finished Cipriano loftily. 

^^Yes,” said Felton with dry lips. ^‘Your mag- 
244 



The Marooned 


nanimity is handsome, senhor. But there are advan¬ 
tages.’^ 

^^That may be. She may also have other interested 
relatives.” 

^^None,” said Felton, and his shifty eyes found the 
rogue’s. ^^She is alone—but for me.” 

^^Ah, that would make you the nearest male and 
the head of the family.” 

Felton dropped his eyes. The unbearable ordeal 
of having to look a human being squarely in the face 
was over. He and Cipriano understood each other 
thoroughly. He had found a way into the good graces 
of the relentless desperado. He could save himself— 
if he played his cards well he might do more. He 
played them. 

“That is so. I am the head of the family. Though 
that does not mean so much in my own country.” 

“But we are in Latin-America, where it means 
everything,” said Cipriano with satisfaction. “Here 
we are wise in these things. We know that beautiful 
and rich girls can be foolish in the matter of love. 
She needs the more practical male guidance. It is a 
sound law that ordains that in such cases the father, 
guardian—or husband—should have that responsible 
control of herself and fortune.” He looked up cun¬ 
ningly. “You know of nothing in her inheritance 
that would interfere with the wisdom of that law?” 

Felton knew nothing at all about Jennifer’s in¬ 
heritance, but he was not going to lose his chance for 
that. He said calmly: “Nothing that I cannot over¬ 
come.” 


245 



The Brute 


Cipriano relaxed to an easier position. 

^^That is good,” he murmured, ^^fortune smiles on 
true love.” He sighed and his beautiful, greedy eyes 
were veiled in contemplation. 

Felton ventured presently: 

‘‘It should be well. ... As the law of this land 
goes, my consent is necessary for my sister^s mar¬ 
riage.” 

“A very good law, too,” the other assured him. 
“Far better than this untrammelled choice by juvenile 
love of you Inglez.” 

“That is true. But since my consent is so neces¬ 
sary-” 

“I know you would not withhold it where a de¬ 
serving and noble-minded husband was concerned,” 
smiled Cipriano with a cruel showing of teeth. 

“No, no. Most certainly not!” Felton stammered 
under the hint of threat. “But”—he became des¬ 
perate—“where do I come in?” 

“I would see to it,” said Cipriano with his noiseless 
laugh, “that you enjoyed a longer lease of life than 
your present circumstances seem to warrant.” 

Felton started back, his nerveless mouth agape with 
terror. 

“I held my finger trigger back there at the island,” 
Cipriano went on. “You, being of a gentle heart, will 
understand why. I said to myself, ‘After all, he is 
her brother. I cannot shoot him— yet/ ’’ 

^^YetF’ gulped Felton. 

“As to the future,” the cutthroat went on dreamily, 
“it must be, as you recognize, in the hands of love. 
246 




The Marooned 


The fingers of an embittered suitor fly readily to the 
pistol butt, is it not so?” 

see,” said Felton limply, and he sat huddled in 
the canoe. It was only as they neared the village that 
he said, ^^After all, I will be your brother-in-law.” 

^^Step-brother-in-law,” Cipriano corrected placidly. 
^^And a thief at that. But I will admit that even a 
slight relationship to Cipriano Bravo is not without 
advantages. And I am not skilled in British legal 
custom, either. Usefulness may preserve you.” 

Again their glances met, and Felton knew that they 
understood each other, and that on his part this 
understanding must recognize that Cipriano Bravo 
would not hesitate to be ruthless if he, Ealph Felton, 
did not help him in every way. 



CHAPTER XXy 


SHE IS BEAUTIFUL—ALSO RICH! 

J ENNIFER’S hut was near the praya^ and as it 
was a mere shack with a roof and three leaf- 
walls she was able to see and hear all that hap¬ 
pened when the canoe party reached the landing 
stage. 

She saw the dagos swarming, and heard their 
shouts, and learnt from them that the money had been 
recaptured. But that was obvious enough, for Lilias 
was standing amid the crowd, and Ralph Felton was 
shambling furtively as close to Cipriano’s heels as 
possible. The sight of him so familiar with the cut¬ 
throat made her sick with apprehension. She felt in 
her heart that that mean-spirited wretch had already 
formed some sort of alliance with Cipriano, and she 
guessed that that could only mean ugly things for 
them—for herself. 

Felton was unwholesome to look at. Even that 
crowd of dago rascals seemed manly beside him. 
Jennifer wondered how she had ever come to trust 
him before a real man like Martin Sondes. She real¬ 
ized her criminal foolishness as she looked down 
upon him, and though she accepted her punishment 
stoically, as something fully deserved, her heart cried 
out for another chance with Martin. If she could 
only show him how she repented, how she in her soul 
248 


She Is Beautiful—Also Rich! 


really, trusted him, loved him—if she could only do 
that, for just one hour, she would accept willingly all 
the dangers and horrors she saw were coming. 

Her thoughts were disturbed by a sudden change 
in the tone of the crowd. Gonzala was pushing 
towards Cipriano. His big, rough-hewn figure was 
shouldering through the dagos. But he was not 
looking at Cipriano: he was looking at Felton, and 
his face had the look of a hunting animal that had 
found its prey. 

Felton did not see Gonzala until the man halted by 
him, and said in a tone vibrant with fury: “So, Smidt, 
you are here!’’ 

At the sound of the voice Felton spun round, saw 
Gonzala, shrank away from him with a gasp of ter¬ 
ror, his figure revealing wilting fear in every line. 
He stood there for half a minute with a loose and 
gaping mouth. Then he tried to bolt. But Gon- 
zala’s great fist swung upward and Felton was 
smashed to the beach with a single terrific blow. 

Jennifer shrank back, appalled. The dagos stood 
back, hoping that Felton would rise and that they 
would see more fighting. Only Cipriano looked at 
his ally and asked, but not with any great concern: 

“What is this, Gonzala?” 

Gonzala glared down at the squirming Felton. 

“You are now my friend eternally, Cipriano!” he 
said, with a low laugh. “You have brought me a man 
I have been longing for years to kill!” 

“So—and why?” 

Slowly weighing each word, Gonzala told an ugly 
249 



The Brute 


tale. Gonzala’s niece was in it, and money, of 
course, and hospitality and honour betrayed. Gon- 
zala glossed nothing. He made plain all Felton’s cold, 
slimy capacity for worming his way into the good 
graces of trusting people. He did not spare a detail 
of the cold-blooded betrayal and robbery. Every fact 
came out of Gonzala’s lips with hammerlike force, and 
under the recital even the dagos snarled and looked 
murderous. Felton, not venturing to rise from the 
ground, squirmed, expecting death every moment. 
Only Cipriano remained calm, watching Gonzala with 
his bright eyes. 

And Jennifer heard everything. It came to her 
distinctly, horribly. She listened to the whole story 
with a mind revolting at its vileness. She felt that 
no man could be so debased as this—and yet she be¬ 
lieved Gonzala. Gonzala spoke like a man telling, 
and Felton cringed like a man hearing, the irrefutable 
truth. 

It was the truth. Jennifer was sure of it. Martin 
Sondes could have told her that it was, after all, but 
one item in a long career of similar ugly deeds, but she 
did not need to have Martin’s assurance. She knew. 
She knew she had sent away from her the only man 
who counted in the world for the sake of a wretch so 
debased that she felt she was smirched by the mere 
thought that he was related to her. It was the final, 
the crowning revelation of her error. 

And all the time the level voice of Gonzala went 
on, reciting grimly the hideous details of Ealph Fel- 
250 



She Is Beautiful—Also Rich! 


ton^s crime, and the dagos growled and Cipriano 
watched alertly. In the end: 

^^So, you see,” concluded Gonzala, ^^that is why I 
shall kill him.” 

The dagos let out throaty growls of agreement. 
There could be no other decision. Gonzala nodded, 
his eyes fixed on the quaking Felton. He pulled his 
belt round, and his hand slid onto the haft of his 
knife. 

Cipriano’s hand went out and touched his arm. 
Cipriano’s voice said, with a suave, cold note: 

^^Not so fast, my good Gonzala.” 

Gonzala lifted his head and glared in astonishment. 

‘^But you surely recognize that I must kill this son 
of a pig,” he cried. 

^^No,” said Cipriano, smiling and even. ^^You will 
not kill him.” 

Gonzala seemed to crouch a little. His hand 
gripped his knife, half drew it. Then he stiffened. 
From the hip Cipriano’s pistol was menacing his 
heart. 

^^You will not kill him,” Cipriano assured him. 
have given him my honourable word that he is not to 
be hurt.” 

^‘Your honourable word to a scoundrel? You are 
mad!” 

^^Nevertheless, I keep my word. You do not touch 
this man.” 

^^My vow!” Gonzala cried. “I have my vow to 
keep.” 


251 



The Brute 


^^And I my interests to protect,” said Cipriano. 
^^This man is necessary to them.” 

^‘Your interests—this spawn of a snake has noth¬ 
ing to do with any man^s interests.” 

^^That is enough,” said Cipriano. tell you I have 
use for him.” 

^^No!” snapped Gonzala. ^^Even we cannot use one 
so foul. He is outside our use. I kill him.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, one with 
a passion of rage in his twisting face, the other with 
his cold and deadly calm. Suddenly Gonzala leaped 
aside and his knife was out and thrusting. He thrust 
to kill, but even before he leapt Cipriano’s pistol had 
spoken, and Gonzala, with his stroke half begun, 
crumpled, sagged, and fell like an empty sack. From 
the way he lay it was easy to see he was dead. 

Cipriano looked down at him, smiling. Then his 
cold, savage glance swept the faces of the men about 
him. In that smile was an invitation and a threat. 
The men shrank and backed before it. 

Cipriano smiled again; softly he told the fat Pas- 
cobas to attend to the unloading of the money, kicked 
Felton to his feet, and with him trailing at his heels 
like a dog, walked toward the cacique’s house, which 
he used for himself. 

At Jennifer's shack he paused before the girl, 
standing white and stiff with horror. He swept off 
his hat with a gallant bow. 

^You saw me save your brother’s life,” he said 
significantly. ^^Count that to my favour, senhorita.” 

He went on his way ignoring, perhaps not even 
252 



She Is Beautiful—Also Rich! 


troubling to note, how Jennifer shrank from him. 
Ealph Felton may have noted it, but he was simply 
a cringing figure shambling at the heels of his master. 
Jennifer ignored him; with a little shudder she 
crouched back into the furthest corner of the shack. 

So she remained for a little while, desperately fight¬ 
ing with a terror that threatened to swamp her and 
send her into screaming hysteria. She fought it back 
and back, inch by inch. She knew that this was not 
the time for hysteria or even terror. She must con¬ 
trol herself, for in a short while she would need all 
her nerve. Presently her will got the better of her 
quivering fears. She stood up, as though to test her 
strength, then, with an apparent calm, came out of 
her shack and walked through the village. There 
were dagos about, armed; but with the death of the 
strict Gonzala, discipline had been relaxed. From 
the deep shade by the huts they watched her walking 
with indolent eyes. They were ready and willing to 
shoot should anything untoward happen, but unless 
it happened they were not anxious to undergo exer¬ 
tion in this heat. 

Jennifer had counted on this. Boldness—audacity 
—they might accomplish something that way; indeed, 
it was the only way left. 

The one guard left at the men^s hut was in a casual 
mood. With Gonzala gone he saw no reason why the 
pretty Inglez woman should not go into the hut of 
the Inglez prisoners. Time enough to bestir himself 
if they made trouble. 

Jjlen and Probyn sprang up as she entered—theirs 
253 



The Brute 


was a hut with four walls. She checked anything 
they had to say with a gesture. 

^^Cipriano has returned/^ she said softly and 
quickly. ^^He has brought Ealph back with him and 
—and there is some horrible scheme afoot. I am 
sure of it. We must get away at once.” 

^Wou mean we must make a dash for it now?” said 
Bevis. 

^Wes,” said Jennifer. ^^Cipriano is with the cacique. 
This is our only chance.” 

^^Eisky,” said Glen. ^‘TheyTl pot at us as we run 
to the jungle—and the jungle itself is no playground.” 

^^There are worse risks,” said Jennifer, with a catch 
in her voice, ‘Than being shot or dying in the jungle. 
If either of those happened it would be an easy way 
out.” 

Glen stared at her; it was Probyn, whose eyes had 
been watching her closely, who showed understanding. 

“You fear Cipriano?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes,” She shuddered. 

Bevis understood fully. He had already had an 
inkling of the scoundreks plan to marry Jennifer for 
the sake of her money, and he knew that no civilized 
consideration would stop a man of that type. He 
laid his hand on the girPs shoulder, and said: 

“All right, Jennifer, wedl make a cut for it. Best, 
I think, to get out at the back of this hut, by pulling 
these palm leaves aside. But you understand the 
risks.” 

“What do they matter?” she demanded. “It is 
254 



She Is Beautiful—Also Rich! 


merely a choice between being shot by them or by a 
bullet from my own revolver/’ 

Bevis Probyn looked at her, and then said softly 
to Paul: 

^Tull aside those palm leaves gently, Paul. Near 
the floor. We should be able to slide through un¬ 
observed.” 

Both Glen and Probyn pulled away the flimsy palm 
leaves. They made a hole large enough to pass 
through, and slipped out softly into the brazen sun¬ 
light of the tropic day. 

Before them, across only a narrow strip of open, 
was the jungle. Let them reach that without being 
hit and they might dodge pursuit and so escape. It 
was no distance; it seemed easy. Paul put his hand 
into Jennifer’s to help her run. 

A low laugh sounded from their right. 

They looked in that direction. In the shadow of 
the hut stood Cipriano and a line of men. Cipriano 
was smiling; the men were smiling. They had reason. 
Every one of them had a pistol or a rifle pointed at 
the prisoners. 

Cipriano walked forward. 

‘T am charmed,” he said. ^This must be some 
beautiful Inglez custom by which the bride hastens 
to the groom. I salute you, gracious bride.” 

They stood before him silent, hypnotized by, the 
shock of their failure, Jennifer trembling between the 
two men. 

^^This ceremony over,” Cipriano mocked, ^Ve will 
now separate—you, senhors, to a more stable hut; 

255 



The Brute 


you, my affianced, to your shack, where the devoted 
care of my men will guard you. There you will rest, 
for in an hour we will take the road to the nearest 
town where there is a notary.” 

Probyn said curtly: 

^^Such joking is in bad taste, senhor, and unworthy 
of a cavaliero/^ 

^‘Joking,” cried Cipriano, with a flash of anger. 
^Ts it a joke that I give this lady the honour of my 
name in marriage?” 

‘^Such a marriage is unthinkable,” said Bevis. 

^^No,” Cipriano retorted. “She is beautiful. I love 
her. And I am a honourable man—I marry her.” 

Jennifer said with shaking lips: 

“I refuse to marry you!” 

Cipriano shrugged his shoulders. 

“It is already arranged,” he told her. 

^^Arranged?” cried Jennifer, aghast. 

“That is so. In this land, you understand, as in 
other Latin countries, marriage is not an affair of 
youthful whims. It is a grave matter, to be arranged 
by the properly accredited relatives of the parties. 
I, unfortunately, am without relatives. You-” 

“Nobody can arrange such a thing for me,” Jen¬ 
nifer protested. 

“Oh, but you are wrong,” the dago assured her. 
“The arrangement has been made by one fully en¬ 
titled to do so in the eyes of the law; by the male 
head of your family, your half-brother.” 

“Ealph has—has arranged this?” Jennifer ex¬ 
claimed, aghast. 


256 




She Is Beautiful—Also Rich! 


^^Ask him/^ Cipriano invited. is over there.’’ 

Jennifer cast one look towards the group of men. 
She saw Felton, pale-eyed and furtive, standing 
amongst them. She turned and with stumbling steps 
went back to her shack. 

As she went her hand closed on the revolver hidden 
in her tropic shirt. To touch it was her only sensa¬ 
tion of hope. It seemed inevitable that she would 
have to use that weapon. 

In the dull-eyed minutes after the siesta, when the 
party gathered for the march, Jennifer, Paul, Bevis 
and Lilias Seyler were flung together again. A 
couple of yawning, cigarette-smoking peons stood by 
them with rifles ready, while Cipriano and Pascobas 
with Ealph Felton in close attendance saw to the 
packing. For just that few minutes they could speak 
to each other. Lilias Seyler stood a little aside, but 
Paul and Bevis drew close to Jennifer trying to in¬ 
fuse a little courage, a little hope into her tragic¬ 
eyed, white-faced numbness. 

Paul, restraining his fury, said: 

^^Keep up your courage, Jennifer. He’s only trying 
to frighten us. All his talk is sheer South American 
bluff.” 

Jennifer did not answer. She had looked into 
Cipriano Bravo’s eyes. She had read the truth there. 
She had seen that she had but two courses now left 
her. She must marry Cipriano, as he flrmly intended 
she should, or she must take the one way out with 
the revolver she kept concealed on her person. 

Probyn said nothing, either. He knew Latin- 
257 



The Brute 


America. He knew what a brute like Cipriano would 
dare in lands where the law did not run. 

The silence of both spurred Paul on. ^ 

‘^He can’t possibly do it,” he cried. “IPs mon¬ 
strous !” 

Jennifer made a little gesture of weariness. 

“No good talking about it,” she said. “No good 
pretending. We know he will stick at nothing.” 

“But, by Heaven, we’ll see he won’t do it. Marry 
you! Never! We’ll see to that.” 

“I’ll see to it, Paul,” she answered, and they were 
all chilled by her tone. They remembered the re¬ 
volver. 

Paul said hoarsely: 

“We’ll do something before you come to that, Jen¬ 
nifer. Trust us.” 

“What can you do?” she asked, tonelessly. 

What could they do? Bevis Probyn had thought 
and thought over that ground ever since he had heard 
Cipriano utter his abominable resolve. What could 
they do? They were alone, weaponless, quite power¬ 
less. They were utterly at the mercy of this gang 
of ruffians and of its ruffianly leader. They could 
obey or die, that was all. 

Nevertheless he said evenly: 

“Do nothing precipitate, Jennifer. Something may 
turn up. One never quite knows when a chance may 
come in a land like this.” 

“What can you do?” she said again. 

“We may get a shot at those brutes, Cipriano and 
Pascobas,” Paul suggested. “Let us get at them, 
258 



She Is Beautiful—Also Rich! 


even with our naked hands, and well tear the vile 
life out of them.” 

^^No,” she told him. ^‘IVe brought enough trouble 
on you by my stupidity. You mustn’t attempt any¬ 
thing desperate or foolish. It will only mean your 
death.” 

guess that’s coming, anyhow,” said Paul. 

^^No,” said Bevis unexpectedly. ^‘1 think he means 
to keep us alive. I think he has a use for us.” 

^What use can he have for you, Bevis?” Jennifer 
asked. 

^^Oh, it’s just an idea,” he said lamely. 

^^Tell me,” she insisted, want to feel that you will 
remain unharmed through the march.” 

^Well, he’ll want witnesses—to this marriage he 
talks of. We may be unwilling witnesses but we will 
be able to certify that it—^it was a marriage in due 
form and order. He counts on our testimony sup¬ 
porting him—our being English, you see, and—and 
not rogues like Felton, either.” 

suppose,” Jennifer observed quietly, ^^the idea 
behind this marriage is that he can get control of my 
money, my estate?” 

^Wes,” said Bevis. ‘^Latin-American law gives the 
husband such control, I fancy. I don’t know whether 
that will hold in British law. Cipriano, it seems to 
me, doesn’t know, either. But he means to safeguard 
himself in advance by having reliable witnesses. 
That is the only reason I can see for his not killing 
us out of hand as he meant to this morning. He’s 
decided we might, after all, have some value alive. 

259 



The Brute 


So that is what I mean, my dear, by telling you not 
to do anything precipitately. Well remain alive, 
and while we’re alive there’s always hope.” 

“If it only takes the form of hammering some man¬ 
liness into that cur Felton,” Paul cut in. “If we 
can get at him we can perhaps prevent him from 
giving his consent, which Cipriano seems to imagine 
counts so much.” 

“You will not knock manliness into Ralph Felton,” 
said Lilias’s slow voice beside them. 

They turned to her. She looked at them with 
something of her old, feline, mocking smile, but now 
they saw it was rather a defence than the cloak of a 
bold and reckless nature. Lilias had had her fill of 
adventure, and it had shaken her. 

She saw their hard glances. She went on with her 
attempt at bravado: 

“Oh, I know I am an enemy now—^but even enemies 
can tell the truth. And the truth about Ralph Felton 
is that you can hope for no decency from him. You’d 
better hear what that superb half-brother of yours is 
capable of.” 

“No,” said Jennifer. “I’ve heard. I heard Gon- 
zala tell what he had done.” 

She shuddered as she recalled that ghastly story 
and its ghastly ending. 

“That was almost manly—for Felton,” said Lilias 
with scorn. Ignoring Jennifer’s gesture of protest, 
she told how Ralph Felton had treated her on the 
island; of all the mean trickery he had attempted in 
260 



She Is Beautiful—Also Rich! 


order to desert her, a woman—a woman who had 
risked all for him. 

As she ended, she threw a scornful glance at the 
others. Her chief scorn was for Jennifer. 

“And that is the man/^ she said fiercely, “you chose 
instead of Martin Sondes. That is the man you be¬ 
lieved before him. That is the man for whom you 
sent him away.” 

“Yes,” said Jennifer dully. “Yes, I know.” 

“You know,” said Lilias bitterly. “Why didnT you 
always know? I knew Martin Sondes. I may be all 
that you think I am—detestable, scheming, unprin¬ 
cipled, and the rest—but I never made the mistake of 
thinking Martin Sondes anything but what he is— 
straight, fine, strong, big-hearted—a Man.” 

They were all silent. eTennifer, limp and pale, 
stared between the huts at the thick and sombre jun¬ 
gle. She had no answer to make. It was all true. 
She knew that Martin Sondes was exactly as Lilias 
had described him. She knew the crime she had com¬ 
mitted against her companions and against herself 
when she sent him away. 

“Look here, Lilias,” began Paul, “you mustnT talk 
like this—” 

“Mustn’t?” cried Lilias. “You—^you undiscerning 
male, I’ve got to talk like this because—because I 
loved Martin Sondes, yes, really loved him. I loved 
him and he wouldn’t look at me because he loved Jen- 
nifer—^who wouldn’t look at him. For his sake she 
has to know.” 

Jennifer looked at her quietly. 

261 



The Brute 


^‘1 know, Lilias/’ she said. know even as you 
know.” 

The two men dropped their eyes. They could not 
look at Jennifer. They knew and Lilias knew that 
Jennifer loved Martin Sondes and had not realized 
it until too late. 

So Cipriano Bravo found them when he came to 
marshal them for the march. He separated them, 
scattering them along the train of men and animals 
already beginning to file under the night of leaves 
along the jungle trail. They went off with hopeless 
hearts, each thinking the same thought. ... If they 
hadn’t sent Martin Sondes away. ... If only he were 
here, what a difference it would make. 



CHAPTER XXVI 
CIPRIANO CONDESCENDS 


T he jungle swallowed them at once in thick, hot, 
muffling darkness. The brazen sun of the 
tropics was blotted out as though it had never 
been. Human life even seemed to vanish save for 
the few jogging shoulders of men before them, the 
few jogging faces behind. In the narrow, winding 
jungle-trail between the huge and upstanding trees 
and the thick curtaining of the vines were the con¬ 
tents of their world. They shuffled monotonously and 
steadily on, a company of ghosts in a world of the 
tomb. 

They pushed on doggedly all the rest of the day; 
and again after their night’s camp. It was in the 
early hours of the next day’s march that something 
happened. 

The column quite suddenly halted. It was an 
abrupt halt, like a jolt. At first there was dead si¬ 
lence, then arose a chattering as though a waggon¬ 
load of monkeys had been let loose. It took Paul a 
full half-minute to realize that the monkeys were 
actually dagos giving tongue. 

Then there was a sudden yell—no, a scream. A 
man’s scream, with a cold thread of creepy fear run¬ 
ning through it. It was ghastly, hearing that sound 
in the thick, hot tomb of the dead forest. 

263 


The Brute 


Firing began. 

Paul had a mad impulse to make a dash for the 
bush. The thing that stopped him was not realiza¬ 
tion of the folly of a greenhorn like him hoping to live 
in the forest, but the sight of the men behind and 
before him. Their eyes were gleaming, and so were 
their teeth. They had the look of animals frightened 
and dangerous. And their weapons were ominous. 

He stood still. It was well that he did. Cipriano, 
a pistol in each hand, came slipping up from the 
rear. As he passed Glen, he snarled at him. He 
also shouted a command to the men to shoot the 
Inglez immediately he showed the slightest sign of 
giving trouble. 

The firing ahead died down. The chattering arose 
again. Paul thought he could distinguish the voice 
of the fat Pascobas, who was among the leaders of 
the column. Presently, he certainly did pick up the 
voice of Cipriano. Then the column began to move 
once more. 

It moved on for an hour. Nothing seemed to hap¬ 
pen. Only the tall and ominous trees hemmed it 
close, like the walls of a living tomb. Then an abrupt 
and dismaying outburst, first of shouting and then 
of shooting, from the rear. 

The column halted again, and Cipriano, who had 
remained ahead, came sliding back. His face had a 
devil’s frown over its saintly features. He looked at 
once both cruel and fearful. He darted glances at 
the trees on either side and held his pistols ready. 

The way he looked into the jungle had somehow a 
264 



Cipriano Condescends 


deadly and sinister significance. Every man abont 
Paul began to crouch and stare into the bush, and to 
hold his weapon ready for something he might see, 
something that might come out of that jungle. 

It was a disturbing, a nerve-destroying atmosphere. 
The jungle, always hateful, abruptly became alive 
with menace. Somewhere behind that inscrutable 
mesh of trunks and vines and leaves was something 
full of threat for them. It crawled in deep shadows, 
and from those shadows it could kill. It was silent 
—deadly silent; it was unseen, but it could kill. One 
felt it, mocking, awful. 

The thrill of knowledge swept along the line. The 
men went on, but they went on huddled together, and 
everyone stared over his shoulder into the dark green 
gloom, his eyes and teeth glinting in fright. If a 
monkey coughed or a branch cracked, or a hidden 
bird flew off with a flutter, one could feel the ^^A-ah 
that went shuddering down the line. 

They all felt the horror, even Jennifer. She did 
not know what it was. But she felt that the atmos¬ 
phere was menacing, fearful. Nothing had been said 
to her, she had caught no hint. Yet the way the 
peons moved, crouching and wary, told her. 

The column went on, and it was with a sigh of 
relief that they pushed out of the canyon of the trees 
into the sun-dappled open space where they were to 
halt for the midday meal. 

But even as they emerged, something about their 
party held Jennifer’s attention. She did not realize 
what it was until it came to her that they were fewer. 

265 



The Brute 


They had come out of the jungle with less men than 
they entered it. How many less she did not know 
—but she felt certain that they had left some behind 
in the jungle. Why had they left them behind? 

She had no sooner asked herself that when Pas- 
cobas let out a terrified shout. He had waited for 
Cipriano to come out of the jungle, and had been 
walking with him when he shouted. 

He shouted again and spun about, his fat arms 
out, his fat body absurdly sprawled. And as he spun 
Jennifer saw something sticking in his fat neck, a 
little sliver of something like an arrow, but too small 
to be an arrow. And even as she saw it Pascobas 
began to topple to the ground. 

As he toppled Cipriano suddenly ducked and 
jumped for shelter behind that falling body. And as 
he ducked Jennifer saw something glint above his 
head—another of the small arrows. It frightened 
Cipriano absurdly, for immediately and without tak¬ 
ing aim he fired with both his pistols into the bush, 
trying to rake the undergrowth as though with ma¬ 
chine-gun fire. And as he fired he ran, ran away from 
Pascobas. 

Pascobas did not run; he could not. He was lying 
on the ground in a queer, jumbled heap, and he was 
deadly still. Jennifer knew at once what was the 
matter with him. He was dead, although there had 
been no sound from the jungle, no shot fired. He 
had been struck dead by the silent death lurking in 
the deadly, silent bush. 

At once Jennifer knew how it was that the party 
266 



Cipriano Condescends 


seemed fewer in numbers. And glancing round at 
the peons she knew that they were huddled together 
in a fear that was on the verge of panic. They were 
staring at the bush with eyes that shone in terror. 

Those little glinting things that looked like absurd 
toy-arrows—they killed. They came silently out of 
the silence of the jungle and slew swiftly, certainly, 
and terribly, with no more than a scratch. i 

Bevis at her side said: 

‘^Curare 

‘^You mean those little arrows?” Jennifer asked. 

^Tt’s the stuff on those little arrows,” he said. 
^^And they arenT exactly arrows, they’re darts. 
Blowpipe darts.” 

'What is curare?” 

"Poison. The Indians hereabouts use it mainly 
on their darts. They’re as skilful as the Dyaks of 
Borneo with their blowpipes. Can hit anything at 
thirty and almost anything at sixty paces. That’s 
why this is rather queer.” 

He was looking at her strangely. 

"Queer, what do you mean by that, Bevis?” 

She felt he was trying to tell her something, or 
rather to suggest something that might give her hope. 

"Queer, because the man who is using that blow¬ 
pipe doesn’t seem to be highly skilled. He doesn’t 
hit his mark, though I should have said that mark 
was never more than twenty or thirty paces away. 
He was trying to get Pascobas—^back there in the 
jungle, the first time, you know—the second time he 
seems to have shot into the brown just to keep our 
267 



The Brute 


nerves on the jangle. But the first time he was un¬ 
doubtedly after Pascobas.” 

‘^Are you sure?^' 

^‘Quite. I^ve been listening to the talk of the peons. 
They^re quite certain. His first shot got the man 
just ahead of Pascobas, the second went over his head, 
and the third got the fellow at his shoulder. Then 
the man with the blowpipe went to cover because 
they began to loose off.’^ 

^^But he got Pascobas just now!” 

^^INTot with the first shot. I was watching, and it 
missed. I think he was trying to get Cipriano, any¬ 
how. He nearly did with his third dart, which shows 
his marksmanship is improving. But if he^d been 
an Indian he wouldnT have missed.” 

^^You’re trying to tell me he isn’t an Indian?” 

^T’m trying to prove it to myself, Jennifer,” said 
Bevis in a hesitating voice. 

^^And if it isn’t an Indian?” 

^Tt might be a dago,” he said. 

^What dago?” she cried breathlessly. ^What rea¬ 
son for a dago— What reason for this attack at 
all? It must be—^Bevis, don’t you see?” 

‘We don’t know,” he said quickly. “No good 
guessing.” 

Don’t we know?” she cried with a little laugh. 
“Don’t we? Who else could it be? What other man 
could it be?” 

“We don’t know,” he said. “Don’t count on it.” 

“I know,” she said evenly. “There is only one man 
who could do a thing like this—Martin Sondes.” 

268 



Cipriano Condescends 


She was absolutely sure that the man who was 
shooting so secretly, so silently, from the bush was 
Martin Sondes. The logic of the thing made that 
plain, the knowledge of her heart made it a certainty. 
Martin Sondes was working for their rescue. He had 
learnt of their plight and, sinking all his own feelings, 
forgetting her treatment of him, that great-hearted 
man had come to their aid. 

She insisted that this was the truth of things to 
Bevis, who did not need much convincing. 

^^Yes, I think it’s Martin,” he admitted. ^^And we 
can rely upon him to do everything he possibly can. 
At the same time I should say that from his meth¬ 
ods he can have very few, if any, men with him.” 

‘Tt looks to me,” said Jennifer with a soft laugh, 
^^as though that made very little difference to Martin 
Sondes. He knows how to overcome such a handi¬ 
cap. And he is succeeding. The plan he is employ¬ 
ing is already having its effect. Look at these brutes, 
they are already demoralized.” 

The mysteriousness, the deadliness of the attack 
from the silent jungle was playing on the nerves of 
the peons. They were in a crawling panic. Their 
imaginations and their tongues had already fanned 
their fears to a pitch of terror that was very close to 
the breaking point. They feared to enter the jungle 
as they might fear to enter the gates of hell. They 
did not know who was striking at them or from what 
direction. They did not know who would be the next 
man struck down by the deadly poisoned darts. 

Only their greater fear of Cipriano Bravo, and the 
269 



The Brute 


whip of Ralph Felton—who had taken his place nat¬ 
urally as second ruffian in command, now that Pas- 
cobas was dead—forced them to dare the forest path 
again. They resumed their journey sullenly, march¬ 
ing packed together, their very skins twitching in 
fear of the silent and inscrutable death lurking be¬ 
hind the leaf screen. 

Fear, also, filled the hearts of Cipriano and Felton, 
but fear had stimulated their wits. Particularly had 
fear stimulated Ralph Felton’s wits. He was a past 
master at protecting his own mean skin, and he did 
that now with characteristic zeal. He walked in the 
midst of their prisoners, as did Cipriano. Felton 
moved along close up to the shoulder of Lilias Seyler, 
and Cipriano Bravo with his long, thin body almost 
touching Jennifer. Bevis and Probyn, under the 
threat of pistols, walked close, too. They covered 
themselves, those two scoundrels, with the bodies of 
their victims. 

Anybody shooting at them ran the risk of hitting 
the women or the Englishmen—but particularly the 
women. Felton and Cipriano realized that the 
wielder of the deadly blowpipe was not an Indian; 
not an expert. They had also guessed it must be 
Martin Sondes. They knew that Martin Sondes was 
the type of man who would not even attempt a risky 
shot for fear of endangering the life of a woman. 

They were right. Cipriano and Felton went im¬ 
mune. Not one of the deadly little darts came their 
way. But if they had counted on their action putting 
an end to Sondes’s attack, they were wrong. He knew 
270 



Cipriano Condescends 


that in order to rescue Jennifer and her party he 
must act quite ruthlessly. He acted quite ruthlessly 
against the peons. Three times the party halted in 
that march, and the shouting and the shooting of 
the morning were repeated. Three times had the 
noiseless darts winged out of the silent jungle, and 
three times they had found their mark. 

When they made camp that night there were three 
peons less in their company, and all save a hardened 
few were utterly demoralized. 

They chose a great forest clearing for their camp, 
building their fires in a position well out of the lim¬ 
ited radius of the blowpipe. Guards watched the 
fringe of the trees with unceasing vigilance, the others 
crouched sullenly, glowering in turn at the woods and 
at Cipriano Bravo with a bitterness of fear. One 
man had accomplished all that. One man had re¬ 
duced the party to a condition of cringing nerves. 
Only to look at the scowling, furtive, fear-filled faces 
told one what manner of power Martin Sondes pos¬ 
sessed. 

During the whole of the evening only one man of 
the party of rogues had a mind free from the obses¬ 
sion of the danger. Kalph Felton alone moved freely 
among the shaken men, slipping from group to group 
in his snakelike and furtive way, talking here and 
there. Cipriano Bravo, deep in his thoughts, did not 
notice him. Felton was too expert in sly plotting 
to give himself away. 

Only when a clamour woke them all in the early 
271 



The Brute 


light of next morning did they realize what he had 
accomplished. 

The clamour came from seven peons, the most hard¬ 
ened ruffians of the gang, and Cipriano Bravo. It 
was the clamour of rage and dismay, and there was 
reason for it. They were all that was left of the 
party. Felton had vanished, the rest of the peons 
had vanished. It took very little examination to find 
that the packets of money had vanished, also. Ralph 
Felton had been true to himself. He had left even 
his latest partner in the lurch in order to save and 
enrich himself. 

There was no doubt that his cunning had triumphed. 
He had played, with disgusting skill, on the shaken 
nerves of the majority of the peons. He had pointed 
out to them that the wielder of the deadly and silent 
death amid the trees was entirely concerned in saving 
the prisoners. Therefore, as long as they moved with 
those prisoners in their midst, they were in danger 
of being shot down from the bush. Only by leaving 
their dangerous proximity could they hope to be im¬ 
mune, for still the enemy in the bush would remain 
with the prisoners. They could then go on their 
way unthreatened. And since they could march with¬ 
out threat they had better carry the plunder with 
them, so that they could end their journey with 
purses well filled. 

An irresistible line of reasoning; escape and loot. 
The peons had not even hesitated. They had stolen 
off in the dead of the night, the guards, who should 
have been on watch, going with them. 

272 



CHAPTER XXVII 
THE UNSEEN STALKER 


T he rage of Cipriano Bravo at discovering his 
plight Avas ungovernable. Not merely had he 
been left to face an implacable enemy with only 
seven men, but all his hopes of wealth had been 
snatched away. Bad enough that Felton had bolted 
with the £7,000. Worse that by bolting he had put 
an end to Cipriano's plan of obtaining greater riches 
by marrying Jennifer. The law of Latin-America 
was firm on that point. No marriage was legal with¬ 
out the consent of the head of the woman’s family. 
Marriage with Jennifer was useless unless it was 
legal. And the head of the family had bolted. 

Cipriano danced about the camp in a paroxysm of 
rage that was almost insane. He looked like a mad¬ 
man on the point of murder. His peons, no less 
than the party, watched him with apprehension. 
Any moment he might break loose and slay in a wild 
fury of rage. With both fists above his head he 
poured a string of curses in the direction which he 
thought Felton and the runaways must have taken. 
He turned and shook his fists at that place where he 
thought Martin Sondes must be lurking. He ramped 
and swore and called down all horrors and abomina¬ 
tions upon Martin’s head. . . . He shouted bitter, 
jeering challenges to Martin to come into the open 
273 


The Brute 


and meet him in single combat. His evil mind, 
searching for taunts to sting his enemy into answer¬ 
ing rage, found in the presence of the women an effec¬ 
tive means. He shouted aloud what he intended to 
do to the women—unlovely things. . . . Then in the 
middle of such shouting he stopped and laughed. 

He stopped, laughed, and his eyes swung upon Jen¬ 
nifer with a cruel and hateful leer. 

He moved a step towards Jennifer. Laughed 
again. 

To his men he said quickly: ^^Four of you watch 
the jungle—as you value your lives. Three of you 
watch the prisoners here. And if they stir as much 
as a finger, shoot.’’ 

Again he laughed and moved towards Jennifer. 

^^So—your protector as well as your thief brother 
think they can beat Cipriano Bravo, do they?” he 
said in a soft, terrible voice. ^‘We shall see. What 
Cipriano Bravo looks upon and desires—he takes. 
He takes now—^we shall see what man will stop him.” 

Jennifer backed away as he came on. Her fin¬ 
gers went to her breast where the revolver lay ready. 

‘^Keep away,” she said. warn you keep away.” 

He moved closer. 

Paul cried: ^^By heavens, if you touch that lady, 
you dog, I’ll tear you to pieces with my own hands.” 

^Wou will be dead before you move,” laughed 
Cipriano. ^^Be wise and do not interfere when Cipri¬ 
ano Bravo is intent on love.” 

Jennifer cried out: ^‘Don’t move, Paul. Don’t do 
a thing. I implore that. I can look after myself.” 

274 



The Unseen Stalker 


As Cipriano moved closer her hand flashed to the 
bosom of her shirt—and Cipriano was on her. 

He knew what that movement of her hand meant. 
With a catlike leap he had seized her, was holding 
her tightly. For a moment he held her, his face 
smiling cruelly as she struggled ineffectually. Then, 
deliberately he kissed her on the lips. She strove to 
strike him, strove to get at her weapon. He had 
perhaps played for that weakening double movement. 
As her hands fluttered, his strong right hand slipped 
into her shirt, plucked at shirt and revolver and 
dragged the weapon away, tearing the garment half 
off her white shoulders. 

^^So that is the toy you counted on!’’ he sneered, 
holding up the tiny weapon of mother-of-pearl. “A 
pretty thing, worthy of one so pretty. But of no 
avail against Cipriano Bravo.” 

He dropped the revolver contemptuously. With a 
quick movement he had her straining in his arms. 

She fought, her hands striking at his face. She 
strove to tear herself away. He smiled, held her in 
an iron grip. Paul cursed hotly, moved. ^‘Senhor!” 
came a warning voice behind him, and he heard a pis¬ 
tol cock. 

Desperate, catlike Jennifer was clawing at Cipri- 
ano’s eyes. Her Angers found his eyes. He jerked 
back with an oath, loosened her for an instant. Her 
hand swinging up smashed against his mouth. He 
staggered and she was free. 

Torn and dishevelled she turned and sprang 
towards the jungle, running like a deer. Cipriano 
275 



The Brute 


with a laugh was after her, running after her to the 
very fringe of the trees. She dodged to evade him, 
and evaded him. She dodged again. He had her by 
the wrist. She tried to wrench herself free; laughing 
he twisted the slender arm, and crying out with pain 
she fell to her knees. He stood over her gloating as 
she crouched. Then his hands flashed to her white 
shoulders and he turned her face to his. 

But already there had come a crashing through 
the undergrowth. Someone came hurtling out, some¬ 
one seized Cipriano Bravo by the scrulf of his neck 
and the slack of his trousers, lifted him and hurled 
him through the air. It was only as he landed on 
his neck that he saw that Martin Sondes had arrived 
on the scene. 

He came down awkwardly on shoulder and thigh, 
but he twisted like a cat, rose to his knee, and they 
saw that, though he had struck the ground empty 
handed, he was up with his pistol ready. At once 
he began to Are. . . . Cipriano Bravo was not a man 
to waste time in a matter of life and death. 

But Martin Sondes was not unfamiliar with his 
kind. He had foreseen that very action. He had 
side-stepped at a jump and Cipriano’s bullets simply 
whipped through the air. Before the saint-faced 
dago could fire a third time. Sondes, diving at him, 
had knocked him clean off his knees with a round-arm 
swipe. Cipriano went, all arms and heels, one way, 
and his pistol another, out of sight among the un¬ 
dergrowth. 

Sondes dived again, pinned the wriggling body to 
276 



The Unseen Stalker 


the earth with a powerfully applied shoulder. The 
ruffian, with a supple twist, spilled Martin from 
him, and sprang to his feet. 

That Cipriano should be able to throw off Martin 
like that was the first hint to Jennifer that something 
was wrong. Sondes was reeling as he straightened. 
His great limbs seemed to sag and tremble. Jennifer 
shot a look at his face. It was yellow-pale, and there 
was a looseness about the mouth and a strained look 
about the eyes; a tense and heavy look. 

She knew at once what was the matter with the man 
who was fighting Cipriano for his life, for her life, 
for all their lives; he was in the grip of an attack of 
fever. It was only his immense will-power that kept 
him on his feet at all, that kept him fighting; and even 
at that, his first rush, his first clash with Cipriano, 
had meant such a huge output of force that he was 
.already half-drained of his strength. 

Cipriano realized it, too. Cipriano, who had the 
lightness and power of a great jungle cat, realized 
that he might easily master this redoubtable man. 
His gun was gone but he had his knife. He backed, 
snatching at his belt. 

He was not quick enough. Sondes was a sick man, 
but until his sickness laid him helpless he was still a 
dangerous one. He jumped again, his arm slashed 
at Cipriano, and the dago, who had imagined that he 
was just outside his range, took the full force of the 
drive on his neck. 

He went over amazingly, legs wildly up, arms 
wildly out. He went through the air in a mad, jerk- 
277 



The Brute 


ing heap. He looked like some big, loose-jointed doll 
which had been knocked through the air by a stout 
stick. 

He hit the ground, and, dazed by the appalling 
power of the punch, rolled over and over in his effort 
to get up. As he rolled Sondes lurched rather than 
jumped upon him. He grabbed to get a two-handed 
hold of the brown throat, but the fever was conquer¬ 
ing. He missed, got shoulder and shirt instead, and 
the shirt tore across as Cipriano wriggled round. 

The dago hammered Martin’s face with his fist, 
heaved, and got the big body over. Martin tried to 
lock the man’s arms and twist from beneath. But 
the fever weakened him. His own arms were grow¬ 
ing as heavy as lead and as nerveless as slack cotton. 
His grip missed again, and Cipriano threw the hold 
off. 

He tried to heave his body up; it no more than 
stirred, and Cipriano, riding him like a horseman, 
gripped with his knees and remained unspilled. 
Sondes thumped at the man’s waistline, thumps that, 
if delivered with normal strength, would have sent his 
man off gasping and writhing. But now, so sapped 
was his strength, the thumps were only pushes, and 
Cipriano retaliated by hammering two-handed down 
on the captain’s face. 

The smash of one punch roused Sondes for an in¬ 
stant from the growing inertia of fever. His arm 
pumped up, caught the brute’s throat, and toppled 
him back. Martin rolled clear, tried to rise—could 
278 



The Unseen Stalker 


not rise. All strength had gone out of his joints. He 
got to his knees; fell again. Cipriano was on him. 

Cipriano was on him, knee in back, left hand on 
neck, pushing the now-inert face into the ground, 
right hand curved back for his knife. 

The knife came out. Sondes could not stir. 

The dagos, who had wanted to shoot but dared not 
for fear of hitting Cipriano, pressed forward, ignor¬ 
ing their prisoners, to see the kill. 

Cipriano^s knife went up. 

A revolver cracked; once, twice. 

Cipriano abruptly stiffened, an amazed look com¬ 
ing over his face. He swayed backwards. The knife 
dropped nervelessly to the ground. His hand, with 
an unexpected suddenness, gripped at his chest. He 
went over slowly, like a tree falling, and lay beside 
Martin Sondes. 

Lilias Seyler, with Jennifer's revolver in her hand, 
called in a clear voice: 

^Tf one of you dagos dare look round I will shoot 
you as I shot Cipriano. Put up your hands!’’ 

Jennifer was also standing up, threatening them. 
She had discovered Cipriano’s pistol in the bushes 
after a frantic search. She covered the dagos. They 
had not hesitated to obey Lilias’s command. They 
had seen that shooting; they knew that their upstand¬ 
ing carcasses were better marks than the kneeling 
Cipriano had been, and they refused to take any sort 
of risk. Paul and Probyn lost no time in going from 
man to man and relieving each of his arms. Then 
279 



The Brute 


Paul stood guard while they examined the men lying 
on the ground. 

Cipriano was quite dead, two bullets through his 
chest; Sondes was unhurt. They lifted him and car¬ 
ried him to the fire. Probyn diagnosed fever, and 
suggested quinine. 

^^And cachassa,’^ said Martin in a thick voice, open¬ 
ing his heavy eyes. He looked round at them all, took 
the fiask of crude, native rum that Bevis passed him, 
drank, and coughed as the spirit bit into his throat. 

His wits seemed to clear, he eyed them all again; 
he half started up. 

^Whereas Jennifer?” he cried anxiously. 

^^Holding you, Martin,” she said quietly; and her 
arms pressed his great shoulders back against her 
breast. He gave a little sigh, sank gratefully against 
her, shut his eyes. 

He opened them in a minute. 

^^What happened?” he asked. ought to be dead. 
Shots—I heard shots! Who fired them?” 

did,” said Lilias quietly. picked up Jenni¬ 
fer's revolver. Cipriano had found it and thrown it 
on the ground. The dagos were too occupied with the 
fight to notice me. When Cipriano tried to knife you 
I shot him.” 

He smiled grimly. 

^^Saved my life again, eh? Want me to thank you 
and remember it?” 

^^No,” she said quietly. ‘T want you to count it as 
settling up a little account I owe you all. I^d like 
you to forget what I’ve done—and cry quits.” 

280 



The Unseen Stalker 


^^Quits/’ Sondes echoed; and Jennifer said almost 
as quickly, ^^Quits, Lilias 

Martin said: 

^^I’ll have that quinine now; a strong dose, Bevis. 
Then pile all the blankets you can on me, and keep 
the fire going. Idl sweat this attack of fever out. 
Keep your eyes on those dagos all the time.’’ 

There was no particular need to do that so long as 
they held the arms and the upper hand. The Latin- 
Americans knew just , how they stood. They knew 
that if they gave trouble they would be shot down. 
They knew that if they attempted to escape it could 
only be into the jungle, and, as these men were mainly 
seamen off Gonzala’s ship, they knew better than to 
run the risk of that. They remained where they were. 
They were by nature men who must have a leader. 
After all, it was better to have Senhor Martino as 
leader than nobody. 

Sondes slept through the day. He woke in the 
evening, the fever gone and his mind clear, but his 
body still weak. He told them how he had happened 
to come up with them, and he spoke, it seemed, be¬ 
cause he did not want Jennifer to have the pain of 
telling about her half-brother. 

She was beginning to tell him how things had gone 
astray in the village; how Ralph Felton had made 
trouble over the canoes, when he said: 

‘T know. I’ve been in the village. I got there a 
few hours after you had started out. The cacique 
told me all about it.” 

guessed you were somewhere about, Martin,’^ 
281 



The Brute 


said Paul. couldn’t see you leaving us at the ten¬ 
der mercies of that-” 

^‘It wasn’t exactly that,” Sondes interrupted 
quickly. was really after Cipriano’s gang. When 
—^when I left you-” 

‘^When we left you,” said Jennifer firmly. 

‘When we parted,” he compromised, smiling, “I’d 
made up my mind that I must do something about 
Cipriano and Co., who must undoubtedly be follow¬ 
ing you. I decided that I would try to get in touch 
with them and head them off.” 

“You had three peons and four donkeys with you?” 
Paul observed. “Did you expect to fight the lot of 
them with those forces?” 

“I don’t know what I intended, exactly,” said 
Sondes. “I rather fancied I would get in among them 
and talk and bluff them into thinking you had taken 
some other trail. However, I missed them. I thought 
they’d come over from Fogasta by our trail, but they 
themselves seem to have gone astray. They came out 
on to the Senzala plateau much lower down, and, as 
luck would have it, struck your trail almost at once. 
I know that, because I met the Indian who had put 
them wise. He put me wise, too. He had met your 
peons and donkeys coming back. He had learnt from 
them how you were being held up at the villages be¬ 
cause of the price of canoe porterage. It amused them 
all, you see, because they knew that the Indians had 
mentioned nothing like the price you were told they 
had asked.” 


282 





The Unseen Stalker 


^^They knew it was a trick on Ealph’s part to make 
ns steal the canoes,” said Jennifer. 

“No, not exactly. They enjoyed it as part of Fel¬ 
ton’s cunning to make a little for himself. It is the 
sort of game they know and enjoy. However, I knew 
that there was trouble, and I guessed there might be 
worse if the delay enabled Cipriano to catch up with 
you. I pressed my men, and went down to the Kio 
d’Oro by forced marches. When I reached the village 
I found I was a few hours too late.” 

“One minute,” Jennifer said. “I suppose you 
learnt everything in the village.” 

“Pretty well everything,” Martin told her, “the 
cacique wasn’t merely angry with Felton and you, but 
with Cipriano too. Cipriano had treated him badly. 
Well, then, I heard the—the reason Cipriano was 
taking you to the nearest town, and came after you 
by forced marches. Easy to pick up your trail. And 
when I got in touch, easier still. Those dagos while 
marching made enough noise to hide the roar of a 
waterfall; certainly more than enough to hide my 
movements.” 

“Ah,” said Jennifer, “that is a thing I wanted to 
know. You were alone?” 

“One of my peons had crocked up on the forced 
march to the village,” he said, as though apologizing 
for his lack of company. “The other two were rather 
used up as well. Also, they were scared about com¬ 
ing on.” 

“But you weren’t! You weren’t scared about tack- 
283 



The Brute 


ling Cipriano and Pascobas and Ealpb and all their 
peons single-handed/^ Jennifer cried. 

really had no choice/’ he assured her. 

“Except leaving us alone and not risking your own 
life in a perilous attempt/’ she commented softly. 
“After all we—I didn’t deserve that you should take 
so much risk.” 

“Oh—^well, one simply doesn’t leave people in the 
lurch/’ he answered. “And then, too, I did rather feel 
that working alone gave me certain distinct advan¬ 
tages. I could fight more effectively and silently than 
I might with a couple or more blundering peons at 
my heels. For, you see, I had hit upon a silent plan.” 

“The blowgun?” asked Jennifer. 

“Just that,” he said, smiling grimly. “It was the 
way a single man could even up his chances against 
a crowd. In fact, it gave me too much of an advan¬ 
tage. I didn’t quite like ambushing them back there 
in the jungle. They were too helpless.” 

“Not quite that,” said Probyn. “They swept that 
bush with a pistol-fire that must have been rather like 
machine-gunnery.” 

“That’s so,” agreed Martin; “and twice they came 
precious near getting me. But I rather welcomed it. 
It made it seem a little less one-sided, although, I 
must say, they had the luck with them at first. I 
ought to have got Pascobas that first time. It 
was a sitter. I was crouching in a tree with the blow- 
gun on a rest ranging on the path. I had the sights 
on Pascobas, so to speak, for ten good yards, and I 
missed him with three darts. I hadn’t the hang of the 
284 



The Unseen Stalker 


thing then, you see. I’d tried the blowgun up the 
Amazon and become a fair shot with it. But that was 
years ago; also, the pipe I used then wasn’t so heavy 
or long as the one I got in the village on the Rio d’Oro 
—^yes, that’s where I got it. However, it mattered 
very little in the end. Though, I must say, if I’d got 
Cipriano the first time I’d tried I might have saved 
you that ugly quarter of an hour with the scoundrel.” 

‘^You might have used a pistol,” Paul suggested. 
^^You’d have got the lot then.” 

‘^Daren’t. They got close enough to me as it was. 
If fiash and sound had given them direction they 
would have riddled me. Besides, there was the moral 
force of the blowpipe attack. You know what the 
effect was—^you can see the result for yourself. It 
was impossible for me to get at Cipriano and Felton 
on the march, after I had killed Pascobas, but the 
deaths of the other three peons made the rest fall in 
with Felton’s plot to bolt. And that led us to this.” 

^^Did you see Felton get away?” Probyn asked. 

‘^Unfortunately, no.” Martin’s tone was regretful. 
“I felt the fever coming, so I took a dose of quinine, 
propped myself in a tree, and slept. When I woke 
and saw that most of the camp had gone I was in a 
blue funk. I thought they’d carried you away se¬ 
cretly, until I saw Cipriano stand up. I was scram¬ 
bling down my tree when he went mad-dog.” 

“And you almost threw your life away trying to 
prevent him from playing mad-dog, while you were 
not in a condition to fight anyone,” said Jennifer 
softly. “1^0, don’t try to explain that. It isn’t really 
285 



The Brute 


explicable—except that Martin Sondes is Martin 
Sondes, and built like that.’’ She looked at him with 
shining eyes. ^^And how did the fever come? Over¬ 
exposure, too little food, no fire at nights, risks run 
in swampy jungle?” 

^ When one travels the lone hand off the main track, 
one has to take on all that sort of thing,” he said. 

^^One has to,” she mocked gently. ^^But would any¬ 
one else have dared it?” 

^^Oh, yes.” 

^‘And brought it off?” she said. ‘‘1 don’t think so. 
No one but Martin Sondes.” 



CHAPTER XXVIII 


FELTON PAYS 

M artin sondes was so far recovered next 
morning that they were able to move off once 
more. 

They had had a long consultation about ways and 
means, which turned out to be all ways and no means. 
Jennifer was veritably the poor little rich girl. She 
could, if necessary, draw on anything up to £20,000 
by telegraph. There are, however, few telegraph 
offices in the jungle. As things stood she and her 
companions had not enough to buy a meal at the next 
village, for Felton and his scoundrels had taken not 
merely the money in the packets but also the very 
cash in their pockets. Martin Sondes himself was no 
better off. 

True, the need for spending money in the jungle is 
a rarity, but occasionally it is imperative. It was 
now. To get down the river to San An jo and safety 
they would need money, and a great deal of it. Mar¬ 
tin made it plain that in no other way would they get 
canoe porterage. It was evident that, unlike Felton, 
he did not think it the custom of the country to take 
canoes by force. 

The only alternative to canoeing was marching, and 
therefore they marched. They were travelling light, 
but even then their progress was exacting and tor- 
287 


The Brute 


turing in that thick, sticky, smelly heat. It was also 
an education. They were able to learn how easily 
they would have died if they had trusted themselves 
to the jungle in order to escape from Cipriano. 

That jungle, apparently teeming with life, appar¬ 
ently full of things to eat, was yet starvation to the 
uninitiated. It was Sondes who found and pointed 
out the capybara which they never would have seen, 
for this forest pig takes to a creek at the slightest 
alarm, and walks along the bottom with only the tip 
of its nose showing. 

It was Sondes who brought in the jaboty, the for¬ 
est turtle, when even the peons went empty-handed; 
it was he who discovered the yellow, mushy, sour- 
sweet abiu fruit, and the bacate pear and the whole 
range of rather insipid, edible fruits from the mango 
to the bacaba and pupunha. It was Sondes who 
showed them the secret of the cipo d’agua^ the water 
vine, which, at a slash of the knife, would ^^bleed’’ a 
stream of clear water in a jungle where the only other 
water was dangerous with fever-germs. 

Martin Sondes was their strength all through. He 
led them, he dominated the peons, he bolstered up the 
courage and the energy of the whole party all through 
that trying march. He fought down his own fever 
and exacted more from himself than from the rest. 

And yet, as they marched, it became apparent that 
the women, at least, were not able to bear the strain. 
Jungle conditions are hard enough for men; they were 
proving too hard for the women. The necessity of 
finding some means of transport had become impera- 
288 



Felton Pays 


tive by the time they reached the banks of the Rio 
d’Oro, well below the old Indian village where Felton 
had been so treacherous, for there were still many 
days of jungle marching. Round the campfire Sondes 
voiced a new plan. 

must go into the next village, and try to nego¬ 
tiate for canoes in some way. We must try and per¬ 
suade them that they will be able to collect their hire 
from the Evelyn Hope when they get down to San 
An jo. In fact, I think I can arrange it.’’ 

^‘I thought these Indians were rather suspicious 
and dangerous?” Jennifer observed. 

‘^They are,” said Martin. ^Jt won’t be a simple 
proposition, Jennifer. Such is the state of commer¬ 
cial honesty in this land that one can get very few 
Indians to risk anything unless they see the colour 
of one’s money in advance, or at least some of it. 
Experience has taught them that it would be the 
easiest thing in the world for us to repudiate 
our bargain at San An jo, and, since they would be 
strangers in that town, there would be little chance 
of their obtaining justice. So they will demand half 
or more of the hire money for their canoes and rowers 
in advance—unless we can persuade them otherwise.” 

^^Do you think you can persuade them?” Jennifer 
asked. 

^^I think so,” Sondes assured her. ‘^1 shall offer to 
stay in the village while you go down to San An jo.” 

^^Oh!” said Jennifer, taken aback. 

^^A sort of hostage?” Paul Glen suggested. 

289 



The Brute 


absurd!’’ Jennifer cried. won’t allow 

that!” 

“It is the only way out.” 

“And if anything happened to you?” she cried, her 
face showing pale through the firelight. 

^What can happen to me? Nothing!” 

“Something might happen to us—an accident on 
the river. What then?” 

“Nothing will happen to you.” 

“If it did?” 

“Oh, one must take some risk; you as well as I.” 

“What would happen to you?” demanded Jennifer. 

“A Latin-American jail as a debt-defaulter,” said 
Lilias smoothly. “The sort of jail from which he 
rescued Ealph Felton.” 

“Is that so?” asked Jennifer. 

“Don’t let’s look on the ugly side. You’ll get down 
to San Anjo all right.” 

“It’s impossible! I—we won’t think of it.” 

“Also,” said Glen quietly, “we are again in Fogasta. 
And in Fogasta they are still hunting for the escaped 
convict, Buckingham, and the man who helped him 
to escape.” 

“Don’t bring that up,” Sondes protested. 

“I think it must be brought up,” said Jennifer. “I 
think we must know the dangers which you are sug¬ 
gesting we should allow you to take—for us. What 
would happen if those soldiers hunting for Ealph 
found you?” 

“They won’t find me!” 

290 



Felton Pays 

^^They might. What would happen to you, Mar¬ 
tin r’ 

don’t know. Jail, I suppose.” 

“That means,” said Paul tersely, “that you suppose 
nothing of the sort, Martin. I know your habit of 
offering the least painful alternative when speaking 
of yourself. You told me that the dagos here have 
a bright habit of carving escaped prisoners, and so 
forth, to pieces.” 

“Is that a fact?” Jennifer asked, in horror. 

“Yes,” said Probyn, before Sondes could answer. 
“It’s a fact, Jennifer. What is more, they owe Mar¬ 
tin something for getting the guard punished. I’ll 
not be a party to allowing him to take such a risk.” 

“None of us will,” said Jennifer. “If we can’t get 
those canoes by some other method we all stay, or 
continue the march as we are.” 

But they did not continue the march exactly as they 
were. Just before dawn they were all awakened by 
the sound of firing. 

Down the river, possibly at the very village they 
were making for, there was some sort of affray going 
on. They heard the hammer of shooting coming 
faintly but unmistakably over the thick jungle dis¬ 
tance. At first there were a few shots, then brisk 
firing from a score of weapons, then the noise died 
down and went out. 

“It sounds like an Indian affair of some sort,” said 
Martin Sondes. “A clash of dagos and Indians, I 
think. There were modern weapons going off just 
now and sporting guns, and even old Martinis—^judg- 
291 



The Brute 


ing by the noise. That sounds as though Indians with 
an odd collection of guns were in it.’^ 

He was rather worried. Something had happened 
in the village that might mean danger. It might only 
mean that a drinking bout had flared up into a free 
fight, and that they would find the natives sick and 
sullen, but it might mean that the Indians had had a 
brush with bad men or even troops and were vindic¬ 
tive. It was even likely that Felton, making for San 
An jo, too, was at his evil tricks again. 

He resolved to go cautiously and, when they started 
their march, sent the best woodsmen of Cipriano^s 
peons—now quite friendly—ahead to smell out the 
land. All moved forward cautiously through the 
gloomy jungle passes. 

So they marched for an hour or two. Then quite 
abruptly Sondes, who was leading, stopped the march. 
They heard nothing, but some sound had caught his 
quick ears. On his instructions they scattered into 
the bush beside the path and waited. 

Presently they heard the quick shuffle of feet along 
the path. They looked out. They saw a man pushing 
forward, rifle ready, furtively on the alert. Their 
fingers twisted nervously over their pistol triggers. 
Then another man came, holding up a fellow who 
yawed and staggered as he walked. He was obviously 
wounded and almost helpless. They wondered what 
was the matter. Then they saw Martin Sondes talk¬ 
ing to the men. 

Two of them were those they had sent ahead to 
smell out the land. The other: 

292 



Felton Pays 


is Fillipe,^’ said one of their own peons. ^^He 
is one of those who went off with the sly senhor that 
night before yon came, Dom Martino. We found him 
on the road a few hundred yards on. He will die, of 
course, but we brought him back because he can talk 
yet.'^ 

One of Felton’s men! They stared at him. They 
already guessed that it meant some fresh villany of 
Ealph’s. 

Martin asked sharply what had happened. 

were attacked as we tried to get away in 
canoes this morning,” said the wounded peon. “There 
was trouble between the senhor and the cacique. He 
would not pay for the canoes. They came out at us 
and shot at us. We killed a few but they were too 
many. I fell close to a hut, and crept under it. When 
they were quiet I crawled away.” 

“And the senhor Felton?” asked Martin. 

“They have him.” 

“Dead?” 

“No, he is alive. They have him and they are very 
pleased at it. They will teach him to be a cheat.” 

Martin’s face became grim. He shot a glance at 
Jennifer. He knew exactly what that teaching would 
mean. Even though he loathed Felton he shuddered 
at the thought of the lesson those barbarous Indians 
would deal out to a white man. 

For a minute Sondes stood frowning, thinking of 
the best thing to do. There were two problems to 
face. The first, the saving of Jennifer and her party 
from the infuriated Indians. That should be accom- 
293 



The Brute 


plished easily enough. A wide detour through the 
bush while the savages were occupied with Felton 
would be a safe course. 

There was, however, the problem of Felton. The 
Indians had him, but they had him alive. If they had 
killed him out of hand, if they would only kill him out 
of hand, Martin would not have worried greatly. The 
man probably deserved death now as he had deserved 
it many times. He could not pretend that the killing 
of the fellow was anything but justice. But torturing, 
as the Indians meant to torture him, was another 
matter. However much one hated a man one could 
not let him suffer in that way, without lifting a finger 
to help him. 

Still Martin had four white lives to consider, to say 
nothing of the dagos. If he went to Felton’s rescue 
he risked them. Had he a right to do it? He de¬ 
bated. Felton, after all, had got into this hole him¬ 
self; Felton had been the cause of enough danger as 
it was. Was it fair to Jennifer and the rest to take 
this new risk? 

Jennifer said abruptly: 

‘^The man said they had captured Kalph, didn’t 
he?” 

‘Wes, they’ve got him.” 

“Is he hurt?” 

Martin grasped at this. The fellow might be badly 
hurt and so could not last long. He rapped a ques¬ 
tion at the dying peon. 

No, Felton was not hurt, not a scratch. He had 
kept well under cover during the fighting. He was 
294 



Felton Pays 


Tinwounded and wonld last to tlie last refinement of 
tortnre. 

^Well, that^s all right/’ said Jennifer with relief, 
for she did not know what Felton faced. “If he is 
nnharmed then he does not need any attention from 
us.” 

She thought that solved the problem of their move¬ 
ments. They would run no more risks for her half- 
brother, even if he were taken into captivity. She 
looked at Martin and saw the worry in his face. 

“But you don’t agree?” she said. ^TTou think per¬ 
haps we ought to rescue him. Why?” 

Martin felt he could not tell her. As he stood 
thinking what to say, as they stood silent, a scream 
came floating to them through the deep stillness of 
the jungle. It was distant, muffled, yet piercing and 
full of terror. Jennifer shivered and glanced at 
Martin. 

“Ralph?” she whispered. 

The scream came again and again, quick, aban¬ 
doned in its terror. 

“Yes,” he said frowning. He turned, counting 
heads. At a pinch he could split the party and make 
a dash into the village while the Indians were occu¬ 
pied with Ralph Felton. He might thus take them 
by surprise, and effect a rescue. 

^‘They are doing something to him?” asked Jenni¬ 
fer. 

“Yes,” he said. 

He decided he would take Paul and the three 
huskiest of Cipriano’s men. 

295 



The Brute 


‘*I wonder I'* she said. ^‘T[e is the sort who jells at 
anything, I think.” 

Martin looked at her. He was startled that she 
shonld say that, that she should speak with such con¬ 
tempt of her half-brother. She understood his look. 
She said evenly: “I know Ralph now. I do not be¬ 
lieve him, even when he screams.” 

^‘I*m afraid he has reason,” said Martin. 

^‘Are you sure?” she demanded. 

The situation was extraordinary. Their positions 
were utterly reversed. It was he who had to take the 
side of Ralph Felton now against her—^her! 

‘^es, I’m sure,” he said. 

^^ou must be quite certain,” she said. ‘‘After all, 
there are lives here that count more than the fright 
of Ralph Felton.” 

He looked at her. She saw what he was thinking. 
She said urgently: 

“I do know him now, Martin, for the worthless 
brute he is. And I don’t want any more misleading 
or trickery from a man like that. I will make no 
more attempts to help him, unless you say it is neces¬ 
sary.” 

“I think this time it is necessary.” 

“But I won’t have you risk your life for a man like 
that, Martin. Not your life.” 

She looked at him, bright-eyed, proud, confiding, 
blushing. He read all that he most wanted to know 
in her glance, and for a moment he wavered. Why 
not take what was offered? Why risk losing the thing 
he counted most in the world to go to the aid of a 
296 ^ 



Felton Pays 


wretch who was better dead, who might be well on his 
way to death even now? For a moment Ms manhood 
was tempted. 

Then Felton, who had been silent for a little wMle, 
rent the still air with a series of blood-cnrdling 
screams. 

Jennifer’s hands went up to her ears instinctively. 

^^What are they doing?” she cried. ‘Tt sounds as 
though they were torturing Mm.” 

^^They are torturing him,” said Sondes crisply. 
^Taul and you, you and you,”—^he selected his men— 
‘^come, we will deal with these dogs. Bevis, I look 
to you to guard these ladies-” 

^^We’ll come,” said Jennifer firmly. 

^^You cannot. It’s impossible.” 

^‘Y^e come,” she insisted. ^Tt will mean two extra 
pistol-hands—to say nothing of the extra peons 
You’ll need us all, I think.” 

‘Tt’s no job for women.” 

‘^We’ll come,” Jennifer repeated firmly. The dis¬ 
tant screaming beat upward horribly. "‘Martin, we 
mean to come.” As he hesitated she herself set off 
down the path at a run. 

They all followed. ^lartin came level with her, but 
did not attempt to turn her back. He gave short 
orders to her and to Bevis and the others. Paul and 
his three men came ahead with Mm; the women re¬ 
mained in the middle. Probyn and Ms four peons 
brought up the rear. 

They broke from the jungle on to a gi'eat rolling 
space leading down to the water’s edge. At the river 
207 




The Brute 


was a straggling village of crazy houses, some walled, 
some mere roofs on stilts. They saw vaguely in the 
centre a mass of Indians gathered. They were packed 
in a mob, and they were laughing, the rare, guttural 
laugh of their race. And from the midst of them and 
their laughter came the screams. 

Martin paused for a minute to give his instructions. 
He and Paul were to go into that mass of Indians, 
the others were to scatter in a circle, and, if it came 
to it, to fire from all points into the village and 
frighten the Indians into imagining they were sur¬ 
rounded by a great force. 

He gave them full time to get to their posts. Then 
quietly and calmly, followed by Paul, he walked into 
the village and straight at the natives. 

At first they were not seen. The Indians were in¬ 
tent on their sport. They were, indeed, able to ap¬ 
proach close enough to see what was happening to 
Ealph Felton. So far as they could see nothing had 
been done yet save to frighten the fellow. He was 
bound, spread eagle, to the side of a house. The 
Indians were gathered about twenty feet away from 
him. One by one they were taking turns to let fiy at 
him through blowguns. As yet they were not trying 
to hit him. That was obvious. With exquisite shoot¬ 
ing they were outlining his body with the delicate 
little darts. There was a forest of darts round his 
rigidly held head. More were round arms and hands. 
There were even darts in his hair and in his clothes— 
but beautifully placed so that the wretched man 
298 



Felton Pays 


would feel all the pangs of death without there being 
any great risk of it. 

That there was a certain amount of risk Martin 
knew, and Ralph knew too well. A bad shot, a shot 
too fine, a scratch, even, and Ralph Felton was a dead 
man, for those darts might be poisoned. They might 
not be, of course, for it might be part of the Indians’ 
grim joke to torture him to screams with harmless 
weapons, and they guessed that Felton would feel 
that those darts were deadly, and they were right; 
that was why he was screaming. He screamed again 
as they watched, for another dart had ^^phutted” into 
the wood no more than a graze from his neck. He 
twisted his head and saw Martin Sondes. 

It was characteristic of the fellow that he was ready 
to ruin all chances of rescue in sheer panic-desire to 
save his skin. He did that at once. Instead of re¬ 
maining silent to allow Martin to work out a plan 
for his deliverance he yelled: 

‘^Martin Sondes! . . . Martin Sondes, save me!” 

The Indians saw Martin and Paul, but they were 
so startled by the unexpected sight of these two big 
white men in their very midst that they backed away 
like scared sheep. They were ready to bolt, for they 
well knew how terrible could be the vengeance that 
followed pleasures like theirs. A wide circle cleared 
about them. Only the cacique^ an old, grim man, 
stood firm. And he saw that there were but two white 
men. He called to the others, and the Indians, stay¬ 
ing their flight, turned with weapons ready. 

It was a moment when death was balanced on the 
299 



The Brute 


flutter of an eyelid. The cacique tried to bring that 
about by his cold stare into Martinis eyes. It was 
his own that dropped. 

He said hoarsely : 

‘^What do you want with us?’’ 

^^You shall see,” said Martin evenly. He walked 
calmly to Kalph Felton, bent, and with his knife cut 
the bonds of his right ankle. 

A gasp of rage lifted over the mass of the Indians. 
Weapons came up. Martin stood coolly, his glance 
running over them with grim unconcern. For a mo¬ 
ment they poised, staring at each other. 

Paul’s heart was hammering. Could Martin carry 
it off? Could he, by sheer force of will, bind them? 
Would he dare go on with all those weapons poised 
to slay? 

Martin deliberately turned his back on the Indians. 
He bent calmly and Ralph Felton’s left foot was free. 

The Indians sucked breath audibly and shuffled 
backward. They were terrified. Such courage awed 
them. They could not believe that any man would 
risk the hundred deaths they had in store for him 
with such unconcern. It was not even fear of some 
hidden consequences that held them spellbound. Just 
the sheer, quiet .audacity of the thing hypnotized 
them. 

The cacique croaked: 

^‘That man is ours. He has done wrong.” 

Martin looked at him over his shoulder: will 

speak with you presently,” he said. He went to 
Ralph’s left hand and cut it free. Without turning 
300 



Felton Pays 


he took two steps across Felton and the right hand 
was free. 

The Indians did not move. The cold daring of the 
act had mastered them. 

Martin turned with grim placidity and faced the 
cacique and the Indians. Whatever his anxieties he 
showed only frigid determination. He knew that the 
situation was touch and go. If he could maintain his 
mastery he might be able to extricate not only Kalph 
Felton but the whole of the party from this ugly 
situation with honour rather than danger. He began 
to talk firmly to the cacique, reading a lecture to the 
man before his own village on the evil thing he had 
done, and the consequences he had risked. Thus, he 
felt, he could dominate and hold them. 

But he had reckoned without Kalph Felton. Ralph 
Felton free had not even the courage to bear a mo¬ 
ment’s risk—even to save himself. His was the craven 
fibre that has caused all the panics and death since 
the world began. He was free . . . with but a few 
steps between himself and complete immunity. He 
meant to win that immunity. Suddenly he had 
snatched a pistol from Martin’s-holster and was bolt¬ 
ing, darting like a scared pariah-dog for the nearest 
opening between two houses. 

And with his first movement came death. 

Movement created movement. The spell broke. 
The Indians woke to life. There was an outburst of 
yells, of hoarse screams of rage. Weapons began to 
go off. At the first touch of the panic Martin had 
realized the situation. His foot went out and kicked 
301 



The Brute 


Panrs feet from under him. He fell to the ground as 
Paul fell, and, calling to his companion, crawled 
quickly to get into the shelter of an angle of the 
house against which Felton had been lashed. 

They were able to reach cover because the first 
thoughts of the Indians had been for Felton. They 
heard arrows whistle, and guns bump off. They just 
had time to see the panic-stricken fool leap wildly 
into the air with three long arrows in his back, and 
bullet wounds on him. Then they, too, were fighting 
for life. 

Martin had brought two pistols. He had the sec¬ 
ond one out. In two quick shots he had dropped the 
cacique with a bullet in the calf, and a vigorous- 
looking man who looked like the second head man 
with a shot in the thigh. Paul dropped one man and 
missed quite a lot in the flurry, but the shooting and 
the sudden loss of their leaders had deprived the 
Indians of initiative. They hesitated and then made 
only a half-hearted attack as the cacique yelled from 
the ground. Arrows came sizzing and guns pumped 
off with terrific bangs, slugs and bullets were tearing 
up the ground round the two men. One bullet 
whipped through the triceps of Martin’s left arm, but 
the pistol in his right hand did not cease to fire. One 
—two—three—four it went, and four men toppled. 
Paul’s pistols blazed, too, but firing from the ground 
is not easy work and he hit fewer than he frightened. 
But frightening was as good work as hitting under 
the circumstances, and the Indians again were 
checked. They poised ready to bolt even when the 
302 



Felton Pays 


cacique raised himself on his elbow to lash them 
onward with bitter words. 

But they never came on. From all round the 
village there came a blaze of firing. Ten pistols and 
guns loosing off as fast as fingers could work them 
sent terror as well as bullets into the village. Shots 
tore in from front and rear and side, hitting shacks 
mainly with unpleasant noises, but hitting Indians, 
too. The noise of that firing was as the noise of whole 
regiments in action. It came swiftly nearer and 
there was shouting, some of it unmistakably feminine, 
but the Indians had no time to note the fact. 

The Indians were breaking. Martin and Paul on 
the ground joined vigorously in the tumult, judi¬ 
ciously laming and dropping the more resolute of the 
natives. The uproar of shooting and cheers was upon 
the village. Enemies seemed to pour in from all sides 
between the houses. The Indians broke and bolted. 

They went streaming into the jungle in wild panic, 
choosing the free river-road. They did not even leave 
the women and children behind—only the wounded. 
Cipriano’s dagos fired after them with immense zest 
but with no particular marksmanship, and their panic 
was complete. 

As for Martin Sondes, he looked up to see Jennifer 
running towards him. He gave her a pale smile, then 
his head dropped on to his arm. Fever and wounds 
had been too much for him. He had fainted. 



CHAPTEK XXIX 


GLAMOUR 

A LL was plain sailing after the fight in the village. 

/A With Felton dead, all that Felton had meant 
was done with. And with the recovery of the 
money their way to San Anjo and the Evelyn Hope 
was made smooth. It was also immediately neces¬ 
sary. Xot only was it dangerous to remain within 
striking distance of the Indians, but also Martin’s 
wounded arm needed skilled attention. 

The wounded Martin interviewed the wounded 
cacique, and, to the astonishment of the savage, 
bought canoes at a generous figure. These were 
worked downstream without mishap by the peons. 
During the three days of river travelling Martin suf¬ 
fered great pain, but once on the deck of his own 
schooner, and after a doctor had attended him for a 
few days, he began to recover. 

In the week of sailing along the coast to Belem, 
where the party was to pick up a liner for their 
return to civilization, he almost regained his old 
vitality. 

And yet he was not quite the same man. He was 
as strong as ever, as dominant as ever; he was, in a 
way, more companionable than he had been, but this 
air of friendliness masked an impenetrable reserve. 
Especially to Jennifer did he seem reserved. 

304 


Glamour 


On the last day of the trip, when they expected to 
pick np the landmarks of Belem at any moment, 
Jennifer stood alone by the break of the poop, aloof 
from the others, thinking of the strange reserve Mar¬ 
tin had shown to her since they had come abroad, 
heart-sore at it, yet understanding it. 

Away to starboard the jungle lay brooding and 
mysterious under the dying sun. The stark, crude 
richness of the sunset was filling the world with a 
golden glamour. The air was soft. The off-shore 
breeze carried to her the deep, strange scents of tropic 
undergrowths. She almost fancied she heard the 
bearded monkeys calling, saw the strange jewel-shine 
of rare exotic fiowers glowing amid the trees. 

The schooner lilted gently, gently upon a sleepy 
sea. It was a bright sea quick with an eloquence of 
colouring. ... A lovely sea eternal and strong in 
its beauty. A sea that made a glory of its service. 
Jennifer gazed down on it, felt its immense appeal, 
was one with it. It was her sea. . . . Her sea as it 
was Martin’s sea. 

And yet Martin was avoiding her. Holding her 
at arm’s length. He was down there on the main 
deck, giving orders, standing four-square and splen¬ 
did, and pretending not to see her. . . . She called 
to him. ^^Martin! Martin?” 

He came up to her slowly. 

^What is it, Jennifer?” 

She laughed softly at him: ^^You are saying in your 
heart. ^Well, we’d better get it over.’ ” 

305 



The Brute 


He looked at her steadily: ^‘Well, we^d better, Jen¬ 
nifer,’^ he said. 

^^And yet you—you didn’t make a move. What was 
it to be with you—^just a handshake on the quay at 
Belem, and a ‘Thank you’ and all over?” 

“Don’t you think that would be the best way?” 

“Isn’t it too tame an ending for all the things we’ve 
faced?” 

“No, rather a natural beginning for the life you 
are to live, the cultured life, the civilized life, the 
seemly and comfortable life amid people and in places 
of the kind that are naturally yours by birth and 
breeding.” 

“A life you despise?” 

“It’s not my life, Jennifer,” he said quietly. “I 
neither despise it nor admire it—it’s just not my life. 
You know me as I am, rough, downright, unpolished. 
I don’t fit into that life. I fit in— here. . . .” 

“Yes,” breathed Jennifer, “you fit in here.” 

“This is my world, I cannot easily break from it. 
Sailing these coasts, fighting these seas, passing up 
and down these great rivers in the tropic sun. Doing 
a little trade—doing a little good, maybe, but, never¬ 
theless, just jogging along on my little round doing 
as best I can the job I am fitted for. That’s all 
I am.” 

“A fine life,” she breathed, “a splendid life—rather 
a noble life. . . . I’m in love with it, Martin.” 

“Jennifer!” he said as though in pain. 

“Yes, I’m in love with it,” she went on. “I can see 
this lovely schooner passing up and down this strange 
306 



Glamour 


and mysterious coast when we are gone . . . doing 
things. Doing things—not existing for an empty 
purpose . . . accomplishing something for the world. 
Bringing trade and fair dealing to backward peoples, 
giving them that bit of help that helps along civiliza¬ 
tion, helping forward bit by bit the great force of 
progress . , . doing something . . . helping to make 
useful citizens of the world . . . being worth while 
instead of worth nothing. Do you wonder why I love 
the life—^want it—don’t want to leave it?” 

^‘Don’t look at it with eyes of glamour, Jennifer,” 
he said huskily. ^^See it true, it’s hardships, trials, 
discomforts—dangers. It has all those.” 

‘^Haven’t I been tasting them? Aren’t they the 
things that give it strength, make it worth while? 
Martin, haven’t I learned that the hard things have 
more savour than the soft? That insipid, artificial, 
meaningless life at home. ... I never liked it, I 
always hated it, the pettiness, the uselessness of it. 
That’s why I came out here, my heart cried out to do 
at least something real and worth while in my life. 
Even trying to rescue Ralph was doing something. 
Can’t you see, I’m a doer? I want to go on doing, I 
won’t be condemned to that old empty life.” 

^‘But the hardness of this,” said Martin, standing 
with hands clenched on the rails, his rugged face 
grim. ‘^Heats, storms, privations, the threat of ruf¬ 
fians like Cipriano. Your beauty amid these sur¬ 
roundings—no men fit to talk to you. . . . The dis¬ 
comfort of being ever at sea in a cramped craft. Its 
lack of civilization, its dearth of amenities. . . .” 

307 



The Brute 


capacity for doing/^ she smiled at him. ^^The 
good, honest, fine sense of work, of facing things and 
winning ... of helping. ... I want that life, 
Martin.’’ 

^‘It’s too hard for a woman like you.” 

^‘I’m asking for it, Martin,” she whispered. 

He was silent. 

^^Martin. ... I am asking something. . . . Won’t 
you help me?” 

‘Wes, I love you,” he said almost violently. “You 
know that, Jennifer. You know it without my say¬ 
ing I love you. No woman has ever touched me as you 
have touched me. No woman is so lovely, no woman 
is so fine. I love you. ... I can’t bear the thought 
that I shall lose you and your sweetness tomorrow— 
only tomorrow. I’ve had pictures of you, and me— 
doing things together, standing here, arm about 
shoulder, watching endless sunsets on these seas, 
watching the coast slide quick and mysterious along 
the counter, of slipping into strange creeks and seeing 
lost, little towns. Of doing things together in sweet 
and splendid companionship. . . . Trusting each 
other, leaning on each other, drawing strength and 
courage and sweetness from each other. . . . I’ve 
dreamed of it. I’ve wanted it. . . . You have a right 
to know. But you must go home tomorrow. It is 
not for one like you, and I see it true. . . . Because 
I love you, Jennifer.” 

She came and stood against him. 

“Martin, dear,” she whispered, “that is what I 
308 



Glamour 


wanted. I stay with you. ... I love you like that, 
dear.’’ 

^‘No, because I love you I can’t let you risk this life. 
It’s not fitted. . . .” 

love you, Martin,” she whispered. 

‘‘You with your breeding, your upbringing, your 
gentleness and fastidiousness, beauty and grace could 
not endure. . . .” 

“I love you, Martin,” she whispered. 

“It is impossible. I cannot allow. . . .” 

“Bend your head, Martin. I want to kiss you. . . 

“Jennifer,” he almost groaned, “you don’t under¬ 
stand. . . .” 

“Hold me tight . . . your cheek against mine, 
dear. . . . Your great arm round my shoulders. Oh, 
Martin! why have you kept me waiting so long for 
this?” 

“Jennifer,” he said huskily. “My dear . . . my 
dear. I can’t let you. . . .” 

“I love you, Martin. . . . We love each other. . . . 
There isn’t anything else that matters. Ah, hold me 
tight like that . . . tighter. . . . And always, dear. 
. . . And never let me go.” 

( 1 ) 


THE END 



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